


One More Thing to Lose

by JadeElite



Series: Reasons to Live [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeElite/pseuds/JadeElite
Summary: You and Daryl have known each other since you were in diapers. Through thick and thin you've stuck together, as friends and as lovers. Even the end of the world couldn't tear the two of you apart. But when the prison fell, you lost everything. The two of you ran and ran, trying to forget. Everybody you knew was dead, and their ghosts haunt your memories. If the two of you could just run forever you would, but there's a secret that has to come out eventually. This one is not for the faint of heart, emotions are running high and things are only going to get more intense as the series progresses. It may not seem like much, but it's better to be safe than to be sorry.





	1. Don't Stop Moving

Bile burns your throat. The gagging is the worst part, not knowing if more is about to come up or not, then finding out that yes, more is coming up. Even when you think your body can’t possibly have anything else to eject, you are proven wrong. Daryl is guarding you while you brace yourself against an abandoned blue Chevy. His bow up, knowing the sound will draw the dead out. You hear his crossbow going off from time to time. After a long while it finally stops, and you hack and spit to try and clear the rancid taste from your mouth.

            “Done…” You manage to cough out. There are still visible chunks of the rabbit from breakfast in the puddle of vomit.

            He looks back at you, and visibly cringes at the sight. “Need to find you a doctor…” It’s a sad mummer, and you know he’s thinking that if Hershel were still alive, if the prison were still standing, you could get the help you need. “I know you keep sayin’ yer fine, but gettin’ sick this often ain’t normal.”

            “It’s stress baby, remember when we were kids and I’d puke before a big test?” Wearily, you straighten yourself, unable to look him in the eye.

            “Yeah.” Daryl quickly moves to grab his crossbow bolts. “Then you’d ace ‘em cause you were the smartest kid in school.”

            “Well we went to school with a lot of dumbasses, yourself included.” You try to laugh, but it sounds as forced as it is. He doesn’t respond to the joke at his intelligence. “…You ever wonder if any of those dumbasses are still alive?”

            “No.” He replies with a grunt, before taking your hand and leading the two of you on your way.

            So, you hold his hand like it’s the only thing left in the world. Watching the back of his head, as though if you looked away he’ll be gone, like he never existed. It had been a several weeks since the prison fell, the loss still hurt both of you. Daryl forged ahead, determined to keep moving, as if getting as far away from that place would ease the pain. You two had watched all your friends, your family, get wiped out by the Governor. Some nights you close your eyes and all you can see is Beth’s body, Maggie’s body, Glenn, Rick, Carl. You still hear Judith’s screams. You couldn’t save her, you tried to save her but… Daryl tells you there’s nothing you could have done. He feels it too though, you see his eyes when he goes back in time, like you he wonders what he could have done differently.

            You and Daryl were the only two to make it out alive. He fought so hard, but his friends kept falling, and the walkers were coming. You were on the other side of the prison, fighting, seeing the same thing. Then you saw him running towards you, abandoning everything else. Later you found out, something in him snapped, he knew he’d lose everyone, but he couldn’t lose you.

            The two of you looked back at that burning building once as you ran. Then never again. You hadn’t even talked about what happened. Just keep moving, keep moving and it will all be okay.

            “Daryl…” He looks back at you, slowing down just a bit. Your legs are tired, and you’re a bit lightheaded, but that’s not what you have to complain about. “I have ta pee…”

            He stops, nodding and looking around. It was a road in the middle of the woods, a scene that had not changed in many days. Still holding your hand, Daryl guides you off the side of the road. You feel like a child, being escorted around. Letting go of his hand when you reach the tree line, his fingers linger on yours. A little way into the woods, still close enough to see Daryl, but far enough to give you some privacy. You undo your pants behind one of the larger oak trees. Your knife is removed from the belt loop and stuck into the tree. You squat down to do your business, trying to be as quick about it as possible, but the moment of rest is some relief to your aching body.

            Leaves rustle in the distance, and your heart nearly stops. Quickly you stand, desperately trying to zip your jeans back up. You fear drawing attention by calling out to Daryl. The button. The god damn button. It won’t go back together. Now is not the time for your waistline to be fighting.

            When you look up, the dead thing is only a few feet away, shambling towards you. “Daryl!” You scream out while reaching for your knife, but it lunges at you. It’s a struggle to keep the rotting assailant away, hands pushing away at the shoulder’s while it snaps at your face. These things were so strong, you never understood how they could be so strong.

            It’s over quickly enough. The sound of a bolt going through the weakened skull is so much louder when you’re this close. It goes limp immediately, falling to the forest floor with the leaves crunching underneath.

            “You okay?!” There is terror in Daryl’s voice, in his eyes. You look at him, frozen in shock while he runs his eyes over you, searching for scratches, bites.

            You let out a weak laugh, less forced than earlier. “I…I almost died because I couldn’t fucking button my pants…” Slumping into his arms that laugh turns into a sob. So many times you had faced death, but to die over something so stupid, now, you couldn’t believe it happened.

            “S’alright… yer alright…” Daryl mumbled, rubbing your back comfortingly.

But there’s no more time to fret about it. Both of you can hear more of the dead approaching. The button is forgotten about as Daryl grabs your hand once more, and the two of you make a desperate sprint for the road. You have to tell him something.

Sometimes the only thing that keeps you running is thinking. You think about Daryl. The two of you have known each other since you were in diapers. Merle was friends with your older brother, and not wanting to leave his baby brother alone in that damn house, he’d bring the toddler along when he came to hang out. In fact, you can’t remember a time when Daryl Dixon wasn’t your best friend. When Merle left, you were all the man really had left, and eventually the two of you, without even really saying anything, just ended up together. He was your first, your only, and god you hoped your last.

Nothing and nobody came between you two. Except for Merle that is. Most people would be broken hearted to watch their lover leave on some brotherly adventure. You wanted to go, but he told you to stay. That you had a chance at being something, and he wasn’t going to let you give that up. But you weren’t the kind to be heart broken, and you knew, without either of you saying anything, that he’d be back. Because he was, there was nothing Merle could do about it. Once every month, or no longer than two, Daryl would return and the two of you couldn’t be separated for days. Some nights you’d get a call from a payphone in god knows what town, Daryl spending all his pocket change just to hear your voice. You kept every letter he sent to you over those years, even now they are carefully packed into your backpack. Your dresser was decorated with the trinkets he’d sent you, over filled with them.

Then it happened. The end of the world. Your home town evacuated for Atlanta, and as desperately as you wanted to stay and wait for him, you knew that him having to search to find you alive, was better than coming home to find you dead. You left a note where he’d find it, and ran. Of course, he found you, in that little camp outside the city. Merle wanted to rob them blind, you didn’t care so long as you stayed by Daryl’s side you didn’t care what happened. Later, that was a thought process you felt guilty for, having come to care for and bond with the group. But they are gone now.

You fall to your knees, gasping for air. Your chest, legs, head, stomach, all on fire. The world is spinning. Everything is fuzzy. You can’t keep doing this anymore, not while you’re like this. After moving for so long, there just isn’t any strength left to go on.

At first your ears are ringing, but eventually you make out the sound of Daryl calling your name. You look up, sweat dripping into your eyes. He’s knelt beside you, saying your name between each desperate gasp for air. You can’t understand him very well, you’re too disoriented. Eventually you manage to decipher. “Just a little bit farther, place nearby, get up, please, please, get up.”

You reach down inside you for strength that you know you do not have, still managing to pull yourself to your feet when you find nothing. Daryl puts your arm over his shoulder, despite his own exhaustion, determined to get you to the destination even if he must carry you.

“I have to…” You suck air into your burning lungs. “I have to tell you something…” Your eyes are filled with tears. “Daryl there’s something I have to tell you.”

“When we get there.” He says, focused, determined. “You can tell me when we get there.”

A cabin, a little way into the woods. You wonder how he knew it was here, perhaps found it back on a supply run, perhaps he had been here before. He seems to know it’s clear when he half drags you inside the door without checking the place. It reeks, not in the post-apocalyptic way, the ‘a filthy filthy person who drank and smoked all day lived her’ type of reeking. Each gasp for air is followed by a cough.

Daryl clears faded newspapers and dirty clothes off an armchair before lowering you into it. You manage to find some comfort in the cushions, closing your eyes and leaning into it while Daryl runs to shut and block the door. While the blood rushes in your ears, and your heart rate slows, he hurries around the cramped building, blocking off all the windows and ensuring that nothing was getting in.

Finally, he collapses on the floor in front of you. “ ‘m sorry…” He pants. “ ‘m so sorry.” He lowers his head into your lap, panting. “I shouldn’ have pushed you like that… not after you was sick this mornin’.”

Everything aches while you raise your hand to rest it in his hair. “It’s okay, we’re alive, that’s what matters.” Both of you are drenched in sweat, tired, and miserable. It’s not long before sleep has creeped in, you couldn’t fight it even if you wanted to try.

A dreamless sleep. But you are not just simply awake again. It’s blackness, eternal, you see nothing, feel nothing, think nothing. It seems to last forever.

After forever, you wake up, slowly but surely, to the sound of Daryl talking to you. You can feel his strong hands rubbing your thighs, trying to soothe the aches in them. When your eyes open he stops speaking, looking away in embarrassment. Quickly he reaches for your pack, rummaging through it, retrieving the last two protein bars.

“Eat…” Daryl grunts, unwrapping one and holding it up to your lips. After a moment of hesitation, you comply, allowing him to feed you, still too exhausted to do it yourself. It’s tough from its age, bland from its brand. His free hand massages your thigh still, and his eyes are locked on yours. When you finish, he opens the second bar, once again holding it up to you.

“That one is yours.” You shake your head. “You need to eat too.”

“Not as much as you do…” He shrugs. “You upchucked your last meal, I’ll be fine fer a little longer.” Before you can argue he gives you that no nonsense look that tells you he won’t be backing down for anything. So, you eat the second one, this time taking it and feeding yourself. He stands, reaching for his bow. “You rest, I’ll hunt.”

“Let me help.” As you stand he gives you that look again and you settle back into the chair.

“We can stay here another night, get our strength back, just stay put.” He moves to the door, unblocking it.

“Stay safe…” It’s whispered, but he hears it, nodding.

This sleep is not so dreamless. It is filled with terrors. Familiar faces, smiling, then stuck in their eternal terror with glazed eyes. There’s so much blood and you don’t know what to do. Then you’re crying, sobbing uncontrollably, holding Daryl, who will never move again.

The door shutting snaps you into consciousness this time. Panic is still coursing through you as you try to stand. At first you don’t even realize that it’s Daryl holding you down so you fight. Then, still quivering, you come to your senses.

“It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.” Daryl wraps his arms around you, holds you tight. Your cheeks sting from the tears pouring down them while you cling to him. He sits on the arm and chair, taking your head against his chest and rocking you back and forth. “We’re going to be alright.” The man whispers, almost more to reassure himself than to comfort you. When at last you are calm he leans back, looking you over, nodding once sure you are alright.

“I have to tell you something…” You rub your face, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Later darlin’…” Daryl steps back, going to the door to block it again, the picking up the prize of his hunt he had dropped to the floor. Three squirrels and a decent sized badger. Then makes his way to the hall, disappearing, you crane your neck to see but all you can hear is rustling. When he returns, it’s with a large box. “Found this place with… I found this place a while back, moonshiners cabin.” When he sits the box beside you she sees it’s filled with jars of clear liquid. He manages a smile, as do you.

Dinner is done in silence, which is rather uncommon. Even since the end of the prison, they had found words of comfort to exchange. But it’s not a miserable silence. Daryl sits on the floor again, head between your legs. Your body doesn’t ache as much anymore, but you’re still weak. Whenever Daryl takes a sip from his moonshine, he raises it up to offer it to you, but you gently refuse each time. Alcohol had never really been your thing.

He turns over so he’s on his knees, still firmly wedged between your legs. Taking one last sip of the moonshine before setting it aside, and leaning forward. “Now…what happened ‘ere…” His hands move to your waist, one thumb plays with the button of your pants, still undone. “Told you ages ago, these ain’t yer size.” His body is more relaxed, his voice calmer.

“I have to tell you something Daryl…” You’re playing with his hair, twisting greasy locks between your fingers.

He bites his lip, eyes flicking up for a moment, a mischievous look in them. “Later.” He says defiantly, unzipping your pants, and pulling them down. You’d given up on underwear long before the apocalypse. Every pair ended up on the floor in shreds with Daryl around. You want to protest, you want to stop him. The words are building up inside you, you should talk to him. But you also must fuck him, be fucked by him. It’s a desperate desire and you absolutely cannot fight it.

“Fuck… Daryl…” You whimper when his head bows between your legs. Mouth finding your warm pussy, tongue immediately and expertly going for your clit. It starts as a tingle, that grows into a pleasurable ache the more he plays with you. Your hands in his hair grip it at times, then resumes gently teasing the locks. You can feel him whispering into your folds, hear him muttering about how much he loves the taste of you. His tongue probes, and each time a wave of buzzing pleasure passes through you, your hips buck, and his fingers dig into your thighs.

One of your legs moves between his, your shin rubbing against his jeans, feeling his erection growing. Occasionally he tenses, inhaling sharply when the friction gets him just right. Then suddenly, he groans your name, rising and lunging forward to kiss you, fingers going between your legs to continue pleasuring. The taste of Daryl’s lips burns from the moonshine, but that is softened, sweetened by the taste of your own juices. Desperately and passionately the two of you kiss, bodies pressed together, you undo his belt, his button, his zipper. He doesn’t have a reason for not wearing boxers, he just doesn’t. Daryl’s index and middle finger hook to catch that sweet spot deep inside you, and you gasp at the rising intensity of your pleasure. With that gasp as an opening his tongue forces into your mouth, exploring its warmth, dominating your own.

Slipping your hands into the now opened jeans, you free his half hard cock from its prison. Daryl growls your name, and bites down on your lower lip. His other hand slips underneath your shirt, quickly moving upwards to cup your breast. Your body aches, desperate to have him. With a familiarity as to how he likes it, you begin to pump his cock, stroking and coaxing it till it’s fully hard. His breath is sharp, ragged, and his thumb circles your nipple, squeezes the soft and fatty tissue. Soon you can’t take it anymore, every fiber of your body is desperately aching to have him inside you.

“Need… you…” Your mind is all tangled up, all you can think about is him.

“Ya… need you too…” He pants, releasing your breast and pulling his fingers out of your sensitive folds. Without a moment to hesitate, he grabs your thighs and pulls you down the armchair so you are lying open and ready for him. There’s no teasing, no waiting. His lips capture yours in a kiss again while the tip of his member presses into you.

You quiver, whining his name as his thick, familiar cock slides into you. The feeling of being stretched around him is one that you will never grow tired of. Daryl growls again, driven wild by the sounds you make, driven wild by the feeling of your walls around him. Once he’s fully inside, he immediately snaps his hips back, then forward again, causing you to cry out in pleasure into his kiss.

Your entire body is on fire and it feels so damn good. He takes up a slow and rhythmic thrusting, grunting with each wave of pleasure he feels. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gripping his jacket at the wings. He braces himself on the armchair with one hand, the other goes around your thigh, pulling it up so your leg can wrap around his torso and he can get a better angle into you. It’s not long before you are completely lost in the sensation, moaning out his name, whining curses, careful to keep your voice low to not draw unwanted attention. You miss being able to scream his name, you miss being able to make the whole world know how amazing he made you feel.

Upon nearing your climax, everything tense and spring loaded, you begin bucking your hips into his thrusts, desperate to feel every beautiful millimeter of him. Daryl is completely gone, consumed by need and pleasure and desire. You can see it in those blue eyes, the lust, the wolfish hunger. His orgasm comes before yours, a tensing of his body, pressing his face into your collarbone as it overcomes him, leaving him quaking from the force. The feeling of his hot seed filling you up is what allows you to topple over the edge yourself. Holding back the scream almost hurts your chest while your entire body uncoils.

If you had the strength, you would cling to Daryl, but as the carnal energy dissipates you go nearly limp. While he slips out of you, you’re quiet, listening to the world around you. As luck would have it the dead seemed to remain unaware of your presence in this cabin. After several minutes of silence, you and Daryl relax. He gets his jeans zipped, his belt buckled, before grabbing the jar of moonshine again and lowering himself to the floor.

You can hear his heavy breathing, your own is struggling as well. Daryl doesn’t say anything as he sips his moonshine, then rests his head in your lap, allowing you free reign to resume playing with his hair. Your naked thighs are hot and flushed, he seems to enjoy the warmth of them, nuzzling his face against the soft skin.

There is a knot in your stomach as you watch the lust in his eyes fade to sadness. Daryl had not been intimate with you in any capacity since the prison, you guys hadn’t stopped moving long enough for there to be time. Now that he had stopped running, you could see it was finally catching up with him, and felt it catching up with yourself as well. You want to take the drink from him, prevent him from going further down the rabbit hole, but you don’t have the heart to deny it to him. It wasn’t going to help him with the way he was feeling. Daryl always gets more emotional when he’s drunk, sometimes angry, sometimes sad. But the thing is sometimes he needs to be emotional, he keeps it all built up inside himself. It always bothered you the way he refused to acknowledge his emotions, it always scared you when he did something stupid because he couldn’t take the buildup any more.

You watch the tears forming in his eyes, his teeth gritting to stop the cry building up in his chest. Your own tears start to fall when he finally lets a sob escape. All you can do is cradle his head and let him let it out. Memories of fallen friends and family fill your mind, torturing you with the sounds of their dying screams. The piercing wail of Judith cuts through all the memories, but even more heart breaking is the way it just, stopped.

Daryl continues to let out sobs, his shoulder’s shaking. He hears them too, he sees them too. Both of you had lost so much, had fought so hard and failed. You stroke his cheek, trying to give some comfort, wishing you knew what to say.

“You did the best you could…” You whisper, voice hoarse.

“Yeah, an’ it wasn’t good enough!” Daryl can’t even look you in the eye. There’s heat in his voice, and when you reach for his jar, he swipes it away. Perhaps you let him have too much.

“Nobody’s was…” You try to be soothing. “Everybody tried, but this world…it beat them… it’s beating us. And the ‘best’ we can do, is keep trying.”

“Fuck that!” Daryl stands suddenly, lurching forward and swaying. You don’t blame him for being angry, he needs it. It’s what he does with the anger that you must control. “I go off riskin’ my life fer these people, I go and I fucking give a damn about them, I care about them, I decide ’m gunna fuckin’ keep them alive an’ what happens? I fuckin’ CAN’T.” He finishes the moonshine, then throws the jar at the wall, you flinch as it shatters, raining glass onto the floor below. He’s still crying, and he can’t stop the sobs that come between sentences.

“It isn’t your fault Daryl…” You stand, legs shaking, making to approach him.

“I know it’s not!” Daryl is shaking, with rage, with pain. “But I just… I just… ‘m tired of losing people, ‘m tired of not bein’ able to save anyone!”

“You saved me…” You wrap your arms around him from behind, he starts to push you away, but stops, arms going dead at his side.

“I saved one person… one life… that’s all I managed.” His voice is all crying now.

“You saved two…” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Don’ give me the philosophical ‘I saved myself’ bullshit…” His head is in his hands now.

“I’m not, you don’t need saving. You always manage to survive.” You have something you need to tell him. “You…you saved two lives at the prison.” He is silent save for his ragged breathing. Soon Daryl turns and gently pushes you away by the shoulders.

“What… what was it you been wanting to tell me?” There is apprehension in his voice, fear like no other. When you try to speak again it all catches in your throat and your eyes overflow with tears again. “What did you need to tell me!” The way he looks at you in this moment, it breaks his heart, he wants the answer to be anything other than this.

“Daryl I’m pregnant.” You finally choke out.

The man you love more than anything let’s go of you and steps back, before sinking to the floor, cursing and holding his head in his hands. You know why he can’t take it, you know why it breaks him.

It’s just one more thing for him to lose.


	2. Talk

Daryl sits in the corner of the room, watching you like an uneasy animal. He hasn’t said anything all night, nor have you. The strongest part of your relationship has always been that the two of you didn’t need to talk about things to make them work. You just always knew what the other needed, how the other felt. You understood each other in a way where things didn’t need to be said. But now it seemed this would become the ultimate obstacle in this new situation. You don’t know how you feel about this, what you want. You hadn’t had the time to think about it until now. For once you couldn’t even imagine what Daryl wants. You know he’s as scared as you are, and for good reason. You know he’s suffering from the loss as much as you are. He probably doesn’t know what he wants either, so you’re in the same boat. If you knew how to talk to each other about it, then maybe you could work it out, but where to even begin?

            You returned to the armchair after a while, slipping back into your jeans on the way. A long and quiet night followed, with you watching him, and he you. Sometimes sleep over came you again, but only for minutes at a time. You would lurch back into consciousness, startled, scared, sitting forward in your seat and letting out a whimper at the sight of dead faces behind your eyes. Each time Daryl wouldn’t move, he seemed to think he’d only make it worse.

            For a while you thought about the baby. Tried to think about what would become of it, and of you. There was a small spark of love nestled in your heart, but the fear was much greater. Lori, the memory of her sticks out like a sore thumb in your mind. Would you die? Were you willing to die for a child who will only fall victim to the broken world? If you lived, could you keep it safe? And at the end of the day the most important question ran its course over and over, did you want to be a mother?

Morning is finally here. With it comes hunger. So, you lift yourself from your spot, cross the room to the kitchen area, (Daryl’s eyes trained on you the entire time) and pick something from what was left of the pile of charred meat. The stove’s propane tank still had some fuel, so with a little bit of work the two of you had gotten Daryl’s hunting spoils cooked up. You were hungrier than expected the night before, and ate more than you normally would have. Thinking on this, you realize it makes sense. Daryl had not eaten since breakfast the day before, and so had consumed practically the entire badger on his own. All that’s left are two scrawny squirrels, sticks shoved through their asses to roast them on the open flame of the stove. Soon the two of you must get moving, best to get Daryl to eat now so he’s ready.

You pick them both up, one in each hand, and carefully shuffle over to the man. His eyes are bloodshot, and you can tell that he’s been fighting tears again. Or maybe he’s got a hangover. Both is the most likely scenario. When you wordlessly hand him one of the squirrels, he shakes his head, even scooting away.

“You need to eat luv…” You push it towards him.

“Naw…” There’s something of a feeling of relief to hear his voice. “You need it more…” This causes you to pause.

“Daryl… we have to get moving… you need to be at your strongest…” Again, you try to push it at him, he grabs you by the wrist and looks you dead in the eye.

“You…” He has to stop, he has to force the words out. “You two need it more…” He doesn’t say it kindly, begrudgingly might be a term that fits better. So, you don’t bother arguing, just take the damn squirrels back to your armchair and curl up and eat.

The light in the room grows more intense as early morning turns to not so early morning. Once it’s bright enough Daryl stands, ready to leave. You stand, but the way your heart is aching you know that it’s not time to leave.

“We have to talk about this…” You finally say, knowing that if you don’t start the conversation then it will never get going.

“Nuthin to talk ‘bout.” He grabs his bow, checking it over. “Just gotta keep movin’…”

“We can’t just keep running aimlessly…” One hand raises to your stomach, feeling the bump that’s hidden under your shirt. It’s so real, you kept trying to pretend that none of this was happening, but when your button wouldn’t go you realized you had to face the reality of the situation. “We… we need to decide what we’re going to do… You know we can’t just keep running.”

“Says who…” He’s refusing to look at you now, trying to find any excuse to avoid your gaze. “Last time we stopped movin’…” His voice cracks, as does your heart.

“Please… we have to talk about this.” You’re scared, confused. The future was already bleak, you needed to know, will this be a ray of light, or another bomb on the battlefield. “I might be able to... handle this…I know a child has always been the last thing you wanted…” The thought had crossed your mind to do something drastic, but you didn’t have the guts to do it without telling him first. You knew that it would be hard, that it would hurt, but it wouldn’t be impossible to just end it. If that’s what the two of you decide is best. But you couldn’t do it without telling him about it first, without giving him the choice too.

“When the hell did I ever say that!” He growls. You’re shocked by the hurt in his voice. “Have I ever told you that? Cause… cause it’s not true!” You’re speechless as he crosses the room to stand in front of you, meeting your eyes with a look of sadness and regret. “Before all… this I wanted a family with you… But I couldn’ bring myself to ask you cause… I knew I’d be a shit father, like mine.” He takes you by the shoulders and fights to find the words to tell you what is happening in his head. “Don’t you ever go talkin’, bout fucking thinking of getting’ rid of it… I can’t lose anybody else… not you… not a child… I can’t keep losin’…”

With a deep breathe, you set to right in your own mind how you feel about the situation. Toss aside any notion you had before, because now you were sure. You wouldn’t be alone, he would be by your side for all of it. As scary, as pants-shittingly terrifying as it all is, he’d love this baby, you’d love this baby. In a perfect world, a family with him seemed only natural, so now all you had to do was make it work in a terrible one.

 “Daryl… one day we have to stop being afraid of losing, and start gaining…” You take his hand, carefully, moving it down to where yours had been resting. When you lay it against the fabric, he goes rigid. You wait for his fingers to relax, for his hand to cup the bulge underneath. “We have to stop running away from the past, and try to make a future.”

Tears are rolling down his cheeks, and the room is silent. All you can do is hope he understands. Hope that the two of you can work things out. Just when you start to think that he’s going to pull away, he falls to his knees, pressing his forehead into your belly. You bite your lip and listen to him begin to cry, soft sobs. Like the night before you gently stroke his hair, trying to offer some kind of comfort.

When he finally calms, looking up at you again, there is the weakest of smiles on his face. And somehow with that smile you knew, the two of you would be okay.


	3. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but good for transition into the next phase.

            Perhaps another hour in this damn cabin wouldn’t hurt. Take some time to adjust, to talk, or try at least.

            “What are we gunna do?” Daryl mumbles into your belly, having pushed your shirt upwards to make contact with the skin. The stubble on his chin tickles.

            At first you don’t respond, mulling it over. Eventually you come to a decision. “I think we need to go back to the Greene’s farm…” It may not be the smartest idea, but it was an idea. Before he can protest you explain. “That herd would have cleared by now, we know there’s a water source, a generator. That it’s standing. It may take a little work to get it into shape but so would any other place. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s better than aimless running.”

            He leans back to look up at you. “I dunno babe… if the herd ain’t cleared out we’d be in a lot of trouble.”

            “They wouldn’t have hung around without something to eat. The area around there didn’t have much to offer, remember?” You cup his cheek, it’s still red and wet from his tears.

            “We’d be better off keepin movin’.” He said with little confidence.

            “I’m not as strong as Lori was… I can’t spend my pregnancy on the run… and god knows I can’t take care of a baby that way.” You had admired Lori for how she handled the journey that winter, it seemed like only yesterday. She never complained, always made sure she was helping the group as much as she could. She may not have been the greatest person, but she made absolutely sure that she was not a burden on anybody.

            “You don’ have to be strong.” Dary; says defiantly. “You have me, I’ll take care of ya, I promise.”

“Are you worried about the memories… I know it’s going to be hard… being back there…” The memories of your dead friends, they might never leave you. Could you live with those ghosts in that place? “I know I won’t be able to be there without remembering, and it will hurt. But it’s what they would have wanted, for us to use their home to keep our baby safe.”

            “I… it wouldn’ be right.” Daryl sighs, slowly getting to his feet. “But yer not wrong, it’s better than running. We’d have a better chance there than on the road.”

            “We’ll have to head back towards the prison… are you going to be able to handle it? We can go around…” You knew that dangerous people lurked around there, you hadn’t seen the Governor fall, he could still be out there.

            “It’s the fastest way…” He looks nervous, but seems to be trying to hide it. The way he kept his eyes down, with his hand fidgeting, was always adorable. “Time ain’t on our side right now.” You nod, accepting that it was a danger the two of you would have to face.

            “So we head towards the Greene farm, figure out where to go from there if it isn’t safe.” You bend down to reach for your pack. But Daryl swoops down and picks it up himself. When you open your mouth to protest he leans in for a kiss, catching you off guard when his lips meet yours. They’re so warm, familiar, perfect. You close your eyes, leaning into him while he wraps an arm around your waist. It was a more tender and affectionate kiss than you were accustomed to, and you loved it for that.

            When he pulls away it’s with a smile while softly saying. “We have to find a car. Not havin’ you walk all that way.” A giggle escapes you, this sudden nurturing and concerned side of Daryl was too cute to bear.

            “And new clothes…” You tease, playing with the open button of your pants.

            “Yes, and new clothes.”


	4. Conception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to the fall of woodbury and a naughty night between you and Daryl

            Daryl guides you at a slower pace now, through the woods and back towards the road. He holds your hand again, but this time keeps you much closer. The pack on his back is the one that you grabbed at the beginning of the end. Filled it with everything you’d need and all the things you could not bear to lose. All that’s left from those days are Daryl’s letters and a few photographs, otherwise it’s only ever filled with the bits of survival gear you’ve scavenged, and food when it’s available. He is tenser and more alert than usual, which is saying something considering he never lets his guard down, never stops watching. His bow is drawn and ready to fire at any moment’s notice.

            Every few minutes he asks if you need to rest, the concern in his voice evident. But you insist on pressing on, after the two nights rest at that cabin and a couple good meals, you were feeling much stronger than you’d had in a while. It had caused you surprise that the pregnancy had lasted this long. You thought for certain things would have sorted themselves out by now, as much as it would have broken your heart it seemed like the only natural course of events. Still you worried, now you wanted more than anything for this child to come into the world, and it would be tragic to lose it as soon as you had come to love it.

            “How do ya think it happened…?” Daryl glanced back at you, no not you, it. His eyes are downwards and focused on your unbuttoned pants. You pull the hem of your shirt down blushing a bit, trying to think back.

            “Dunno… I mean usually we’re careful but, we haven’t even… we don’t get a lot of time to…” The two of you didn’t balance your relationship on your sex life. Although sex is great and all it wasn’t the most important thing. You talked, you hunted together, and most of your energies and time were focused on keeping the rest of the group alive and building the prison into a safer place. “I think the last time we were intimate was… right before the flu broke out.”

            “Naw… that wasn’t long enough ago.” Daryl’s gaze returned forward. “Lookit yerself, you gotta be pushin’ yer second trimester already…”

            “Daryl Dixon where the hell did you learn a word like that?” You never thought Daryl to be a simple-minded idiot, but that was certainly not a word you expected to be in his vocabulary.

            He’s quiet for a moment, contemplating or embarrassed, you can’t see his face to determine which. “Don’ matter anymore. I know yer shit at trackin’ yer cycle but when was the last time it happened?”

            “Shit I guess it was… before the Governor disappeared. Right, right I was on it when Glenn and Maggie were kidnapped…” You pause, a fuzzy memory slowly taking for in your mind. Daryl glances back again when you chuckle. “That damn scotch…”

            He glances back with a raised eyebrow. “What scotch?”

            “Not surprised you don’t remember that well, you got even drunker than you did last night, probably drunkest I’ve ever seen you.” Your cheeks flush as the memories become clearer. “Do you remember our ‘Weekend at Woodbury’?“

            The timing seemed about right, although keeping track of time wasn’t really your strong suit, hence why it took you so long to noticed that you hadn’t had your period in a very long while. Back when the Governor disappeared, and your group took in the residents of Woodbury, it was very quickly realized that not only were there a lot of supplies in town, but a lot of hidden stashes. It was put upon you and Daryl to spend a few days sweeping the town for anything that would be useful to be brought back. It was good that this was done immediately, when the group returned a week later to grab bits of the wall for reinforcing the prison, the entire place had been burnt down, presumably a result of the crazed psychopath making a return.

            In the cellar of one of the houses, the two of you had found a stash of alcohol, most of the bottle smashed, the only thing surviving being a few of old scotch. When the you brought it back to the apartment you guys were holing up in for those few days, an idea occurred.

            “You know… the others don’t have to know we found this.” You teased, opening a bottle and sniffing it’s contents. Initially you recoiled at the burning smell, but even though alcohol was not something you normally partook in, you had a feeling it might be fun to have one night to celebrate your presumed victory over the Governor.

            Daryl snorted when he saw you react to the smell, knowing how you feel about drinks like that. “I don’ see why not. Two of us haven’t had time to just hang out and have fun since, well before all this… I mean aside from in that tent back on the farm” He was teasing you, eyes glued to you as you moved about the apartment, enjoying the way the candle light lit your features. You’d had some moments since those days, but none like the nights making love under the stars, unconcerned with the group hearing you in the distance. Now that all of you knew the full scope of senses for the walkers, you never dropped your guard long enough to really enjoy yourselves.

            “Now, I haven’t had liqour in a long while, but if I remember correctly, if gives me the giggles.” You grabbed a second bottle and sat beside him on the bed the two of you had claimed. It would be the first night in ages that you’d slept on a real bed, not one of those back breaking bunks at the prison.

            “That it does, I remember Merle bout nearly slapped you cause you wouldn’t stop laughin’ the last time we got you plastered.” Daryl grinned, but that grin faded as the memory of his brother’s fate came to mind.

            Before he could become lost in the sorrow of the memories you leaned in and gave him a gentle and comforting kiss. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, before grabbing the extra bottle from your hand and leaning back.

            It tasted terrible, but each sip went down easier than the last. Burning turned to stinging turned to nothing as went further and further down alcohol lane. Soon you were in Daryl’s lap, letting him drink from your bottle, and him letting you drink from his. Every few minutes you’d think some strange though, and laugh, then whisper it into his ear. The warmth of his arms made you feel safe. Between drinks he’d kiss and suck on your neck, leaving little marks. You whispered his name between giggle fits, feeling excitement growing inside you, desire, each kiss was kindling thrown into growing fire. It’s growing in him too, as the night goes on the kisses become more desperate while more sloppy, and sitting on his lap means you could feel his erection beginning, rubbing against you as it filled out his jeans.

            When that fire burns hot there’s a tingle, a need between your legs and it’s unfightable. With no consideration for the carpet you dropped your bottle to the floor and push Daryl down onto the bed, kissing his lips with furious passion. He growled, tossing his own bottle aside with enough force that it breaks against a nearby table leg, causing you to giggle once again.

            “Mmm I’ll fuckin’ give you something to laugh about.” His hands quickly moved to the waist band of your pants, one slipping down the front and finding that hot spot. “Fuck yer already wet darlin?” He teased when his fingers became slick with your juices. You moaned in confirmation, capturing his lips in a kiss once more.

            Two fingers push into you, causing a gasp, and when you exhale the laughter that follows makes him grin hungrily. Daryl stroked your insides, enjoying the sounds you made while you did so, but he was already struggling to control himself, he needed more. So, before long he had your positions flipped over, causing your head to swim and a ‘weeeee’ escapes you as if you were on a roller coaster.

            Daryl loomed over you with a dark and lusted look in his steely blue eyes. “ ‘m gunna fuck you real good tonight darlin’. I’ve been aching to have you around my fuckin’ cock.”

            “I want you to.” You whined, before laughing again. “God I want you to fuck me so hard I never forget what you feel like babe.”

            “Ask and you will receive.” He kissed you again, passionately, while his hands worked desperately to undo both of your pants. You had your arms wrapped around him, holding him close and gripping the back of his shirt. As soon as his hardened cock is freed you bucked your hips up to greet it, causing him to release a small moan at the friction of you against him.

            There was no time between your pants coming off and the tip of his member finding your entrance. Before he pushed in you raised your thighs to wrap your legs around his hot and quaking body, determined to keep him caged and unable to escape you.

            Pleasure courses through you when he slides into your ready hole. He didn’t need to be slow about, your body wants him, needs him. Every fiber of you belongs to him, ever fiber wanted to become one with him.

            “Daryl!” You cried out when he pulled back and slammed in again, causing an earhquake within your lower body, a waterfall of bliss crashing down on you.

            He moaned your name with each thrust, punctuating them. Each time it was like the entire world was crashing down around the two of you in the best possible way. You and he both shook in pleasure, as he thrust and you bucked your hips. It was rough, a lot rougher than you were used to but god was it good.

            Daryl gripped the sheets so tightly the corners popped of, causing them to snap back like a rubber band, cloth smacking you in the cheeks. You laughed.

            It wasn’t long before you started to feel your breaking point coming, and you tried to stave it off. Forcing your body to coil tighter and tighter. Daryl could feel it, you knew by the way his breath grew sharper as your walls started to grow tight around his thrusting cock.

            “Don’ hold it back.” He whispered, focused on his thrusts. “I want to feel you cum, I want to hear you scream.

            And scream you did, when you let everything inside you release you cried out his name, let the whole empty world know that you were his. If your orgasm was light you would have been blinded. If it was heat you’d have been burnt to ash. But it was a quaking of muscles and overstimulation of nerves culminating in an explosion of pleasure and perfection that damn near melted your body.

            Daryl felt it, you know he did, because he yelled out your name the same way as his entire body tighten and he released inside of you. It was almost all too much, the sound of his voice, the feeling of the heat of his flesh, the way his juices filled you up. God in that moment you just wanted to be full of him.

            And it didn’t end there. The two you continued on into the early morning. Fucking and laughing and screaming each other’s names. You were so sore he had to carry you to the car that afternoon.

            “That damn scotch…” Daryl nods in understanding after a while, after you two had put the pieces together, filled in the blanks in your memory.

            “Do… you regret drinking it…” It’s a cautious question, still trying to grasp how your lover feels about the future that lays in front of you.

            “Naw, best damn scotch in the world.”


	5. Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad stuff, talk of miscarriages and stuff so tread carefully if you don't handle stuff like that well

            The two of you had been on the run for so long, and now you had to backtrack. In the past you had scurried from town to town, safe places that had been discovered during supply runs. The focus had not been to get as far away as possible, just to keep moving, in any direction. Now you are headed straight towards the prison, on one of the main roads, the fastest way to the Greene farm would take you past it. Neither of you wanted to return, but time was not on your side. You now move at half the speed of your previous journey, and the progression of your condition was not going to wait for you to arrive at your destination. As such, Daryl is desperate to find a car, checking each one you find along, and cursing aloud when it won’t run. It wasn’t just the need to move faster that caused him to be so concerned about the lack of transportation. Although he wouldn’t say it, you could see he was worried about your health.

            After only a few days of walking, you began to side with him on that matter. Fatigue plagued you, the kind a night of rest was not enough for full recovery. The first day you could go till nearly the afternoon with stopping. The next, you already needed to rest after a few hours, then again a few after that. It only grows worse as time progresses. But you were almost never the one to make the decision to stop. Daryl would feel you begin to lag behind, or hear your breathing become more labored, and unless danger prevented so, would stop and force you to sit.

            Still, the prison grows closer, and with the closing distance your nightmares become worse. You wake up gasping for air, half screaming, half crying, haunted by the faces of your fallen friends. Daryl would try to comfort you, but there is little he can` say, can do, because he is being haunted too.

One night you awaken with a start, sitting so quickly your head spins. Daryl is at your side almost immediately, tired eyes looking over you.

“ ‘m here…” He whispers, putting a hand on your shoulder. He guides you through deep breaths till you calm down. Once you can tell what is real again, you look around the shack that is tonight’s place of rest. The shadows in the corners move, and for a moment it’s Maggie sitting there, staring at you, silently judging.

You shake your head to clear the images from your mind, the exhaustion was really beginning to take its toll. “Daryl…” You wanted to tell him, to share with him all the pain and sadness, to tell him about your dreams, both waking and sleeping.

“What is it darlin’?” He sounds so tired; this journey was taking a toll on him as well.

But how could you place that burden on him? “It’s nothing… nothing.” He has his own fears, his own pain to deal with. After all he’s done for you, the least you could do is not add to his burden.

            A week later you came to small town that offers some promise. It was more so a few roadside stores and a gas station, a rest stop for travelers like yourself, but it would do. You found some relief at the sight of a thrift store. The search for new clothing had not been a fruitful one so far. There was always an article here or there, but nothing that could accommodate your expanding waistline. It has reached the point where you’re wearing Daryl’s belt to hold your jeans up, and he has a piece of rope to barely hold up his.

            “Let’s check the cars at that station… bet one of ‘em…” Daryl begins to move towards the building, but with a firm yank on his hand you march towards the store.

            “Clothes.” You grumble, not in the mood for being pleasant today.

            “Or we can get ya some clothes…” He mumbles, not quite fighting. You think you hear him chuckle, probably amused by your determination.

            There are more than a few walkers in the shop, and it is a while before the building is cleared. You work in sync, keeping an eye on each other’s backs. There’s really no point to keeping track of how many are taken out, you used to keep count, back at the start. But then one day your kill count hit the triple digits, and you stopped counting. You are brought to a pause when you swear you are seeing Michonne amongst them, snarling and biting. When Daryl’s bolt brings it down you realize you were seeing things, it was just another walker. Still, your mind was swimming again with the thoughts of lost friends, and when he comes to your side and asks if you’re alright, you tell him that you are.

            When Daryl deems the building safe, you begin browsing the limited clothing selection. Your top priority is new pants, but to your dismay there seems to be a lack of maternity clothing, and the larger sized sweatpants looked like they wouldn’t stay up either, you’d just be swimming in them. When you finally find a pair that might fit, your current jeans are immediately stripped in the middle of store. Daryl stares in shock, almost blushing.

            “What, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” You tease. He doesn’t respond, just busies himself examining his crossbow. His face is adorable though, the way glances up at you occasionally while you get into the new pair of jeans. “Damnit…” They fit, but barely. The waistband is snug, it would only be a few more weeks before the button popped as well. You sigh, holding your belly and trying to think of a solution.

            You can feel Daryl’s eyes on you, and when he speaks it’s quiet. “Why’d you wait so long to tell me?” He approaches you, slinging his bow over his shoulder. “You knew fer a while… didn’t ya?” One of his arms goes around your waist, hand rubbing your back, the other hand rests between yours on the baby bump. For a moment you are distracted by his hands, there was something about them that you always loved. The looseness of them, the way his fingers are more curled. It was something dumb to be so fascinated by, but it still made you smile. But he catches your attention again when he speaks. “How long did ya know…?”

            “Before the prison fell…” You admit, looking away. “Only a few days, didn’t know how to tell you yet and then… everything happened. And for a while it seemed like there may be no point in telling you.”

            “What do ya mean no point?” He pushes your shirt up and gently rubs the skin. The way he is so tender with you gives you butterflies.

            You try not to sound sad when you talk. “Given my history… figured there was no point causing you to stress over something that would have sorted itself within a few weeks.” You chuckle, but your voice strains. “Three pregnancies… and the only one that sticks is the one in the middle of the apocalypse… funny, right?”

            You and Daryl had been together for so long, it wouldn’t really surprise anybody if you told them you’d had your fair share of pregnancy scares. But what would be a shock, would be the fact that in the past ten years, you had actually been pregnant twice. Each one lasted no longer than a couple short months though, before coming to a painful and bloody end. At those times, emotions had been mixed for both of you, but with how quickly it came to end, neither of you had the time to come to any solid footing on the idea of being parents. In the end, it was one of those things you just didn’t talk about, no matter how badly you needed to. It’s easier this way.

            “So, you were just… not gunna tell me?” The hurt in Daryl’s voice catches you off guard. “You thought you’d end up losing the baby… and was just going to, what? Suffer through that alone.” You can’t look him in the eye now, one of your hands shifts to rest on his.

            “I didn’t want you to waste energy worrying over something that wouldn’t last.” It’s whispered. “And I… I didn’t want to break your heart by giving you something then taking it away.” Neither of your previous pregnancies made it anywhere near this far along, how were you supposed to know this one would last?

            “You would have been hurting over it though…” Daryl cups your chin with those interesting fingers of his, and pulls your gaze up to his. “I don’ want you to go through stuff like that alone, I want you to be able to talk to me… to let me be there for you. You shouldn’ have to face anythin alone, I wanna be there for you.”

            “I’m sorry,” You refuse to cry, refuse to ruin this moment by crying.

            “I love ya.” Daryl leans in and kisses you gently, tenderly. The love and care that you feel in that kiss makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

            “I love you too.” You manage a smile when the kiss breaks apart. But those butterflies don’t let up, causing you to look down at your swollen belly in confusion. It couldn’t be that, right?

            Daryl gently rubs your stomach. “What is it darlin?”

            Fuck, there you go crying and ruining the moment. “It’s…she… he… whatever the fuck…they’re moving Daryl, I can feel it. Holy shit and it feels amazing.”

            “Bet it does.” He kisses the top of your head. “ ‘m jealous, think I’ll feel it soon?”

            “I hope so.” You look back up at him, but your smile quickly fades when you catch something out of the corner of your eye. You’re gaze snaps towards the large front shop window, but whatever you saw was already gone.

            Daryl looks in the same direction, pursing his lips. But neither of you said anything. It was just your imagination, right? There’s nobody watching you. There’s nobody left.


	6. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, graphic memories of the other's deaths lie ahead

            “Did ya see somethin’?” Daryl moves to grab his bow, to pursue whatever apparition you might have seen.

            You grab him by the arm. “I thought so but… there’s nothing out there.” Your head goes fuzzy for a moment, and in the shadows you see movements. Shaking your head to try and clear it only makes things worse. Figures appear and disappear from the shadows.

            “Darlin’? What’s wrong?” Daryl holds you by the arms in case you fall. “Yer’ pale as a fuckin’ sheet.”

            “It’s nothing baby…” Your throat is dry, the exhaustion and your memories were not playing nice. You see Rick pass by with Carl before falling over and vanishing in a puff of smoke.

            “No it ain’t!” Daryl guides you to the back of the store, there’s a small office, behind the desk is a ratty couch, he helps you to sit,. “I know somthin’ is wrong. You’ve been… acting funny for a while now… talk to me. I told ya I want you to let me be there for ya.”

            You suck air between your teeth as Beth’s face, pale and bloody, appears from the darkness. “I… I’ve been seein’ things Daryl… things that aren’t there…” It had never been this bad before, you tell yourself it’s just the stress.

            His eyes widen, and he sits beside you, one hand on your shoulder, the other upon your stomach. “What do ya mean seein’ things?!” He’s panicicked, but follows your gaze to the corner you’re staring at.

            You shudder as Beth’s head snaps back, a hole piercing her forehead, bits of skull and brain splattering the back wall, then she’s gone. “The others… them dying… them watching me…”

            “You’ve been hallucinatin’…” Daryl groans, looking down at your swollen belly, gently rubbing. “I knew you wasn’ eatin enough… ain’ sleepin enough. Been pushin’ ya too hard and now this…”

            Closing your eyes to the dark visions, you take comfort in Daryl’s warm and gentle caresses. “Don’t go blaming yourself. We’re trying the best we can… it’s all in my head I just have to deal with it…”

            “But it’s not just in your head!” Daryl presses his face into the crook of your neck, voice laced with worry and fear. “You ain’t gettin’ the vitamins and shit you need, I knew you was gettin’ anemic but… this is really bad darlin’.” His other hand moves down to wrap around you and rest beside the other. “It’s bad enough we don’ have the time to let you rest, but you ain’ gettin’ the food ya need to grow the baby. If yer hallucinatin’ it means things are gettin’ bad.”

            Your chest is burning, you had been able to fight the fear brought by your visions, but now you were being forced to come to terms with the possible consequences. “Daryl… I don’ wanna lose this baby…not after everyhin’ we lost already.”

            He shudders at the thought, holding you close. “You won’, Ima make sure of it.” When you open your eyes the room seems less terrifying, and Daryl looks you dead in the eye. “We’re goin’ to get through this, I’m not losin’ you, I’m not losin’ it.” He stands, hands lingering on the baby bump, leaning over you and staring down at it. “I… Daddy’s gunna keep you safe… alright little one?” He bends down, pressing his lips to the skin. Your body is filled with warm fuzzies and butterflies.

            “You going out?” You mumble when he pulls away, placing your hands where his once was.

            “I have ta go find you somethin’ to eat.” Daryl readies his bow, slinging the far too light pack over his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon…” He tries to reassure you. “Going to check that gas station, and head a bit up the road there might be a store.” He makes his way for the door, looking back at you briefly. “Rest… Give yer body the chance to recover an’ do it’s job alright?”

            You just nod silently, unable to bear to see him leave. Once he’s gone you shift to lie down on the couch, arms wrapped protectively around your stomach as if somebody might steal it away in your sleep. The whole store is quiet, but you can still hear the ghosts. In the distance you hear the screaming, the gunfire. When you open your eyes into the dark office you see their faces looming, watching you, judging you.

            Maggie comes close, crawling across the floor on bloody hands and knees. You don’t feel breath when you face is mere inches away from yours. “It shoulda been you.” Her voice isn’t angry, it’s sad, lost. “How many a us would still be alive if you hadn’ run and hid.”

            “I’m sorry.” You whimper, unable to close your eyes against the horrors.

            She backs away, Rick looms over you, blood dripping from a slashed throat. “We all died, my son died, my daughter DIED.” He is angry, hissing every word. “For what, a low-life and her baby she won’t even be able to protect.”

            “Thing should die in yer uterus before it has to live with you as a mother.” Beth grumbles, poking her bullet hole.

            “I know…” You whine. How could you bring a child into this world, how could you even think you could be a mother to it.

            “You think you can go and have some happily ever after with that filthy redneck and your bastard baby?” Michonne examines her katana, still soaked in her and Herschel’s blood. “You really think you deserve that? After what you did to us?” You don’t, you know you don’t. The day the prison fell you knew you didn’t deserve to mother the thing growing inside your belly.

            “Go away…” You mutter, trying to be strong, trying to force the visions away.  “Go away!” The continue to scream, they continue to taunt, it seems to last eternity. Begging and pleading does not run them off. You curl up holding your stomach, feeling weak flutterings go wild inside you. “Go away!” You weren’t strong enough, you’ll never be strong enough.

            Carol’s voice begins to call your name.

            “Go away! You weren’t even there! You don’t get to taunt me too!” You lash out, opening tear-filled eyes to see her face looming above yours.

            “Stop this!” She cries out, pinning your hands above your head. She continues to yell out your name. “Stop this now!”

            You’re shaking, crying, fighting to be free of the ghost. Then realization pierces the cloud of fear and terror. These are not a ghost’s hands that are pinning you down. Carol was not at the prison.

            Carol was not at the prison.

            Carol wasn’t there.

            “Carol…” You whimper, the screaming and taunting fades. “Are you… real?”

            “Why wouldn’t I be silly girl?” Carol smiles weakly at you.

            “I thought… I… forgot you weren’t there… I thought we lost you too?” You’re relieved when she lets you go, but immediately grab at her hands for reassurance that she is truly there. “How are you here?”

            “Doesn’t matter right now, where’s Daryl?” She stands back, but allows you to hold onto her hands still. Her eyes move up and down your body, slowly widening with the realization of your condition. “Oh… it would seem… there’s some catching up to do.”


	7. We should have looked for you

            “I can’t believe you’re here.” You slowly pull yourself into a sitting position, it’s a bit of an effort. “We… the prison… I’m so sorry, Carol I am so sorry.” Tears well up in your eyes.

            “Hush.” Carol sits beside you. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I saw what happened at the prison, thought you and Daryl were dead.” She looks concerned and relieved at the same time. “How did you make it out of there?”

            “We… we ran, we ran away.” It hits you again, that terrible feeling of guilt. “We should have stayed and fought but… Daryl, he took me and we ran… we left everybody behind…” You start to choke on the words, saying it out loud, confessing to it, rips open all the wounds. “I’m sorry.” You mutter over and over again, bending over and holding your head in your hands.

            She’s quiet for a moment, then sighs. “It’s in the past, you two did what you had to, to survive.” Carol rubs your back soothingly. The two of you had been close, not quite like she and Daryl were, but your shared concern for the man helped the two of you to bond, to help each other through difficult times. “Where’s Daryl? I’ve never seen you two separate while on the road.”

            You sniffle, trying to rub the tears from your cheeks. “He went to go find food, the gas station across the street, check up the road.” He may have been gone only a few minutes, or it could have been hours, or days, you couldn’t tell, you didn’t know how long you were asleep. “I’m not strong enough…even with Daryl making me eat more than half his share of what we get our hands on, I just keep fading. There hasn’t been much of anything since the prison… and I up-chuck most of it anyways.” Carol had been the one person you told about your previous misfortunes, when Judith was born she asked if you and Daryl had ever thought about starting a family. “We haven’t been able to find a working car, I barely have the strength to make it more than a few miles a day. Carol, I’m scared, I’m so scared I’ll lose this one. I know it’s a shitty world to raise a baby in, I know what happened to Lori, to Judith, to… But Daryl can’t stand to lose anything else… I don’t think I can either.”

            “Look at me.” Carol takes your chin and tilts your head to look you in the eye. “You’re going to be okay, you’re strong, Daryl’s strong, so your baby is going be strong too.” She smiles. “I’m so glad to see you, and I’m so happy for you.” She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a great hug. It feels so safe and warm, you return it quickly, practically clinging to her.

            “We should have looked for you…” You whisper into her shoulder. “I knew you weren’t there but, we just kept running, didn’t know where to go or what to do.”

            “If I had known you survived that I would have gone looking for you too.” She pulls away. “But you and Daryl… I can’t imagine the kind of hell you’ve been through, and sure I’m a little miffed you didn’t come find me, but it seems there might have been some distractions.”

            You’re starting to love when those little butterflies kick up in your stomach. “We’re going to the Greene farm, I know it doesn’t have the best memories, but that herd would have cleared out and…”

            You’re cut off by the sound of Daryl frantically calling your name.

            “Shit he probably saw my car.” Carol stands, the feeling of her presence leaving is like a hole in your heart. “Boy thinks I’m an intruder probably.”

            She stands and waits for the office door to slam open, Daryl entering with his crossbow raised, finger on the trigger. There is a tense thirty seconds or so while he comes to the realization of who is here. Wordlessly he drops the bow to his side, then the floor. Somehow you knew he’d react like this, with tears in his eyes. Without saying anything the two embrace, Daryl lifting Carol off the floor he’s so overjoyed to see her.

            He starts to speak when he sets her down. “We shoulda…”

            “Already went through this song and dance.” Carol raises a hand to quiet him. “We can save the catching up for later, right now there’s more important things to attend to.” She gestures to you.

            “Hey babe.” You manage weakly, the rush of seeing Carol was beginning to fade, and you’re feeling light headed again.

            Daryl rushes to your side, dropping to his knees and digging through his pack. “Was right bout there bein’ a store, most of it was cleared out but I found some dried fruit, and those protein bars you hate.” He pulls one of said bars from his pack. “There was a couple cans of food too but nothing with a lot of nutrition… Raided out the health nut section and got you some vitamins though.” He pulls out a bottle of iron supplements.

            “We need to get her some proper food.” Carol leans on the desk to watch you two.

            With little joy you open a protein bar and start to chew on it, with little else as an option you couldn’t exactly refuse. “That’s part of why I said the farm. Herschel said the root cellar was stocked up, and there were crops in the field when we fled, assuming I understand my veggies right, they might have… how do I put it?” Your mind was too fuzzy for all the words to make sense.

            “Seeded up? Grown a bit of new vegetation this season?” Carol tries to finish for you.

            “And there was the orchard…” You’ve finished the first bar, and Daryl is already shoving a second into your hands.

            “But it’s gunna take time to get there… you need food now.” Daryl looks back at Carol. “Yer car, got the gas to make it to the Greenes?”

            She nods. “I might know where we can get enough supplies to last us the journey.”

            The realization hits you, you can see it in her eyes. “No, it’s too dangerous, it has to be over run and… and they, that’s where they…”

            “There’s still all the supplies we stockpiled at the prison, nobody would have been using them.” She tries to keep her voice soothing. “Daryl and I can take the back way in, how Tyreese came, go through the tombs, the interior shouldn’t be as bad as the courtyard, from what I saw it looked like everything got locked up.”

            “That place is a deathtrap!” You move to stand.

            Daryl grabs you by the shoulders and holds you down. “Reason we can’ find shit out here is cause we already put it all in there. You need those supplies, who knows when we’ll find anything…”

            Tears are rolling down your cheeks once again while you hold your pregnant belly, little flutters going off. “Please don’t do this, don’t go back there.”

            “There ain’t another way darlin’.”


	8. Too Close

            You’re laying across the back seat of Carol’s car as she drives, lazily listening to her and Daryl talk and plan. It’s a terrible idea, the worst ever, going back into that graveyard. The sun shines through dirty windows, warming you, and you’ve pushed the hem of your shirt upwards to allow it to shine off your rounded belly. With one hand you are gently tracing symbols into the skin, in some way convincing yourself that the fetus can understand the hearts, the butterflies, the stars. Dried fruit tastes nothing like their juicy counterparts, you decided upon getting into the bag of them, but supposedly the good stuff is concentrated in them, good for you, good for the baby.

            While conferring with Carol about the plans for the prison, Daryl glances back at you frequently, checking to make sure you’re okay. Since he got back it’s been a constant stream of him pushing food at you, first the protein bars, seven of them, god you hate those damn things but he wouldn’t let you say no to eating them, and you were so hungry that they went down easy anyways. Well it took both yours and Daryl’s water canteens alongside some bottles from Carol’s car to eat them all, they taste like dirt. Then the fruit, any time he catches you having stopped eating, he makes a sound like a frustrated animal, staring you down until you resume. You’re not quite sure where you’re putting it all, but no matter how much you eat you don’t quite feel full. It’s a sense of relief that fills you though when you keep it all down.

            “How ya doing back there momma?” Carol had taken to affectionally calling you that. She seemed happy for you, if not a little worried, scared, in the same way Daryl is. She couldn’t bear to see another child die, not one she loved, and with how much she loves you and Daryl, you know she already loves the little one that’s in your belly.

            “ ‘m fine.” You mumble sleepily. All the food in you, the warmth of the sun, the movement of the car, was starting to carry you off. But you weren’t ready to sleep yet, you fought it, scared they would be gone when you awaken. “How much longer?”

            “Not long.” Daryl looks back at you, and you smile sweetly at him, catching him off guard. There’s a little pink to his cheeks, but he smiles back.

            “When we’re in there, you have to stay in the car.” Carol says. “Don’t leave it for anything.”

            “What if I have to pee?” You rub your eyes.

            “Go before we’re gone, then hold it.” She replies.

            You chuckle at how firm she is about it. “I’ll try, no promises.”

            “Please, just stay in the car, you need to stay safe.” Carol sighs, not looking back at you.

            Slowly, Daryl reaches back, resting a rough hand on your bare belly. “You have to keep ‘em safe ya here? Do what’s best for the little one.”

            You enjoy the safe feeling of his hand on your baby bump, enjoy the little shifts inside you. “I know, but you have to come back… I can’t do this alone.”

            He smiles. “Weren’t you the one sayin’ I always manage to survive.” That night at the cabin feels so long ago now.

            “Alright love birds, we’re here.” Carol pulls the car to a stop. Slowly you force yourself into a sitting position, pulling the hem of your shirt back down. Through the front windshield you can see the fence, the crumbling walls. Vaguely you remember being here a long time ago, being part of a team set up to try and block the breach into the prison.

            It’s too close, way too close, you can hear it again, the screaming. “We don’t have to do this… we can just keep driving…”

            “It’s a long way to the farm, and we don’ know what we’ll find when we get there. We have ta stock up.” Daryl gives your belly one more comforting rub before getting out of the car. You wait a moment for him and Carol to clear the nearby walkers, before exiting the vehicle yourself.

            “Stretch your legs, go pee.” Carol looks at the breach and the blockages you had put up ages ago. “Guess we have to take those down.”

            “Not like they’re needed anymore…” You mumble, making for the tree line.

            “Don’t go too far!” She calls out to you.

            “Alriiiiight.” You tease. Despite everything, it’s a nice day, the air is warm and the wind feels good. The sound of leaves crunching under your boots makes you smile. When you’ve found a suitable tree to do your business, you must rest one hand against it to keep your balance while you squat. The bark is scratchy, little pieces coming off and left on your hand. When you stand there is a bit of a struggle, the changing of your center of balance was still something to get used to. It’s a relief to have your jeans button up again without a fight. Still, they were a tighter now that your stomach was full of food. You cup both hands to your swollen belly and look down at it, whispering. “Can you hold off on getting bigger for just a little longer? Till mommy finds some bigger clothes?” You get no response.

            You freeze at the sound of rustling dead leaves. This is all too familiar a situation, but this time you aren’t caught with your pants down. You pull out your knife and start backing towards the car. Scanning the woods reveals no visible danger, but the crinkle of another being in the forest still goes on, luckily it seems to be moving further away from you.

            “What’s wrong?!” Daryl’s voice catches you by surprise, causing you to yelp and spin around, blade raised. “Whoa whoa easy there darlin’.” He takes you by the waist to make sure you don’t fall.

            “Thought I heard something, just my imagination.” You lean into Daryl’s chest, taking a moment to appreciate his scent, his warmth. This could be the last time he holds you, if he doesn’t make it out of there. You know he always survives, he always survives but this is suicide.

            “I know it’s hard being back here…” Daryl looks over to Carol, who makes her way into the woods to investigate. “How are the hallucinations?” His voice is tense, worried.

            You’re guided back to the car. “Not been seeing anything since I ate. Still… hearing things, screaming.”

            “Get some sleep while we’re gone, and make sure you take those iron supplements.” Daryl lowers you into the back seat of the car, squatting next to you so he’s eye level with your belly. “Last few weeks… they’ve been rough, but tomorrow we’ll get away from this place and all it’s bad memories. Then we’ll find somewhere safe, Greene farm or elsewhere, somewhere quite where you can have the little one in peace.” He’s staring at it with so much love. The man had been so apprehensive when you told him about your pregnancy, but with each passing day it seems his love grows for the unborn child.

            “Just make sure you come back…” You put a hand to his cheek, thumb stroking it. “Don’t do anything stupid or reckless. If it’s too bad in there get out, supplies or no.” The life inside you shifts, you can feel those little butterfly movements and somehow it helps you to relax.

            “There wasn’t anything out there, not that I saw.” Carol says as she comes out of the woods.”

            “Still, be good to check the whole area before we leave her.” Daryl stands. “Rest up now darlin’. We’ll be back before you know it.”


	9. Danger Lurks

            You lie in the backseat of the car, both fighting sleep and trying to embrace it. Being here, being alone, it’s just asking for nightmares. When you open your eyes, you can see the towers of the prison through the windshield, half lit by the setting sun. Don’t want to think about how long they’ve been gone, just don’t think about it. Don’t think about it, just sleep. Think about Daryl, think about how strong he is, think about how he’s doing this for you, for your baby.

            Your stomach rumbles, and you groan and the feeling of something moving inside you. But it’s not the baby. Why? Why did you eat all those protein bars? You had joked about needing to take a piss while they were gone, but this was far worse than that. You adjust your position, trying to alleviate some of the pressure in your gut. It’s too dark to go out, it’s too dangerous even if it was light.

            At first, it’s just a little gas, not the odorless kind either, you gag, wishing you could crack the window but it’s too late for that. As the night wears on and it grows darker out things only worsen. You’re so busy dealing with the unbearable urge to answer the call of nature, that you’ve nearly forgotten about Daryl and Carol’s stupid mission. You try to think about anything else, fresh air, your favorite book, what the end of your favorite tv series would have been if it had got to finish airing, Daryl’s blue eyes, your baby having those beautiful blue eyes.

            As your discomfort grows, the child moves inside you more and more, perhaps feeling your distress, perhaps affected by the fact that it’s now sharing your body with a mass that is going to be delivered much, much sooner. How much longer are they going to take?! Surely, they should be back by now, unless there was trouble? Your panic is cut short by a grumbling in your stomach even louder than the last, the pressure grows.

            You sit up with an immense groan, the infant moving all the more fervently doesn’t help this need, nor does the fact that gravity is now taking effect. This wasn’t going to wait, sooner or later something will have to give, and you’re not holding on to find out what that something is. Out the windows of the car you see no movement. When you crack the door, you hear nothing but the wind in the trees. Standing is even harder than sitting was, using the car door to pull yourself up, while one rests on your rumbling tummy.

            A quick dash to the nearest tree is made, you honestly didn’t expect yourself to be able to move this fast but thank the gods you can. Finally, able to answer nature’s call, you unfortunately allow your guard to drop…

-Hey where are Carol and Daryl, sounds like a good time to check in on them-

            As the morning sun rises, the two emerge victorious from the ruins of the prison, each with heavy packs full of more than enough supplies to make it to the Greene farm. Guns, food, clean water. They weren’t go to pretend it was easy, physically or emotionally. Both of them have tear stained cheeks, blood and grit on her hands. They had to put down a lot of walkers, and too many of them had familiar faces.

            But at the sight of the car, Daryl can’t help a small smile, remembering what he’s doing this for. These supplies would help to keep his love well fed, and his unborn child would be able to grow. But that smile quickly fades as he sees the car door hanging open, with the woman nowhere in sight. His heart stops as every grisly possibility runs through his mind. The pack hits the ground and he’s running, screaming her name. Carol follows in suit.

            He checks the car for any sign of a struggle, desperately hoping she’ll come out of the pushes asking what the hell he’s yelling about.

            “Where is she?!” Carol is looking for any sign of danger, any clue as to where she went.

            Daryl starts tracking the footprints she left behind, muttering to himself about how stupid it was to leave her alone. “She left the car in a hurry… looks like…” He has to cover his mouth with his sleeve, a foul stench making his stomach turns. “She had to take a shit… god damn how did she…?”

            “Well now we know you shouldn’t eat 7 of those protein bars in one sitting.” Carol cringes as she comes up behind him. “There’s another set of tracks, don’t look like walkers… Came up on her while she was distracted.”

            “She fought… course she would…” He follows the tracks deeper into the woods. It’s obvious that who ever it was struggled to make her follow them. Daryl’s heart drops to the leafy carpet as her prints turn to a clear dragging mark. “When I find whoever did this… I’m gunna strangle ‘em with their own intestines….”

            “Might not have to…” Carol mutters. “Think about who they took, they’re going to have a lot more than they bargained for when she comes to.” Her voice is shaking, she knows who did this, there’s only one man alive who would, and she’s too afraid to even speak his name.

            “If she comes to…” Daryl’s fighting angry tears, and before they can say anything else he takes off in a dead sprint, following those tracks. He doesn’t want to think about what may have happened to her, don’t want to think about what may happen to his baby. If he couldn’t protect them he’d have nothing left. He couldn’t lose them.

            Not them.

-and back to you-

            When you awaken your head is throbbing, you a put a hand to the top of it and find your hair sticky with dried blood. You don’t like the sounds you are hearing. Quickly both of your hands go to your belly, holding your breath you wait for any sign of life inside you. It’s a wet dead groaning sound that makes you want to puke. For a moment there is nothing and your heart races in terror that something may have happened during the struggle. A snapping and biting type noise that you don’t want to open your eyes to see. There’s a butterfly, then another, then nothing, but it was enough.

            It was so dark, and once again you were caught with your god damn pants down. You couldn’t see who attacked you, but you knew, even before they spoke. There was only one person out here that would be so cruel and dark hearted to attack you while you were in that state, to have reason to take you at all. The Governor. Damn man must have been lurking around the prison since he murdered all your friends.

            You finally open your eyes into a dimly lit room. And the first thing you see causes you to lurch upwards and over the side of ‘your’ bed vomiting. Hershel’s head, reanimated, sits on a stool beside you, having been the source of the groaning, of the snapping. There are tears in your eyes and your throat burns with the bile.

            “Mornin’ sunshine…” That terrible voice makes you want to puke all over again, but you have nothing left. You look up at the face of your captor, wanting desperately to lunge forward and strangle him. The knife in his hand stops you, as does the handcuff around your ankle, keeping you locked to the bedpost. “Sleep well?”

            “Go to hell Philip!” You shout, spitting at him. He just smiles, and shakes his head.

            “Now, now, we’re going to have to learn to play nice.” He circles your bed, and you sit frozen, watching him as if at any moment he’s going to attack. “You should be grateful, after everything you’ve done, I’ve still decided to let you live.” Your stomach turns as you become aware that Hershel is not the only reanimated on the premise. You appear to be in a small warehouse, that the Governor has brought furniture into to make some kind of sick home for himself. On the walls, chained, are the last walkers you want to see.

            Tears well up in your eyes, this time they are not hallucinations. Michonne, Rick, Carl, Sasha, and Glenn are all locked up around various parts of the room, like decorations. They’ve been de-armed, de-jawed, as Michonne had told you she did to walkers to stay safe. Seems the sick man has learned something from her. You can’t tear your eyes away from their rotted faces, and you pray to the god you don’t believe in anymore, that the others were spared this fate, that they were peacefully dead, or something, something that’s not this.

            “Why am I alive…?” You whisper, already knowing the answer.

            The man points his blade at your stomach. “When I saw you and Daryl I was more than ready to kill you, followed you to that store, just needed to wait for the right time was all. Then I saw something I could not believe. You are a very brave woman for trying to have a kid in all this mess of a world.” He shrugs. “I knew I’d have another chance, I knew where you’d be going. You two looked so desperately in need of supplies you couldn’t not go back to the prison could you?”

            “Why. Am I. Alive?” You restate more forcefully.

            “Because I could never harm a child!” He turns to Carl’s corpse, smirking. “Unless they deserved it of course.” He turns back to you. “Well, Michonne killed my Penny, and you can’t possibly imagine what losing a child is like, it hurts, leaves a hole inside you that it seems like nothing can ever fill.” That mad smile is one of the many nightmares that has plagued you for weeks, and now it was reality. “But maybe I just found something’ that can fill it up just a little bit.”


	10. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cut the tail end to make it the start of the next chapter which i'm about to post

            You sit with your knees pulled up to your chest, never taking your eyes off the Governor, who is at his makeshift stove, cinderblocks around a fire, a metal grate over the top. He has a pot on, stewing something from a can. He doesn’t bother to keep an eye on you, comfortable with the fact that you wouldn’t risk your baby by directly attacking him.

            Hershel’s head is still groaning, you’re on the edge of the bed as far away from him, from it, as possible. You’re keenly aware of each figure of your former friends chained to the walls around you. They moan and shuffle.

            And smell. You thought the stench of the everyday world couldn’t get any worse, had become accustomed to the stench of death and decay. This building is overwhelmed with rot.

            Daryl

            You can’t stop thinking about him. Without a doubt, he will come for you, but when. How long will you have to endure this? Bile rises in your throat as the thought crosses your mind that; maybe he didn’t get out of the prison. He and Carol could be dead, you have no way to be sure. If he is alive, the Governor certainly has defenses in place, a plan for when he comes. This is a sick game to him, one where he wrote the rulebook.

            There must be a way out though. He can’t stay in here with you forever, he’ll have to leave, then you can try. Admittedly the bastard was smart in handcuffing you by the ankle rather than the wrist, you can’t just break your foot to escape then you’d have no way to run. Break the bedpost maybe? Then what? You don’t know what lies on the other side of these walls, the same things keeping Daryl out could be keeping you in.

            Daryl’s face flashes in your mind. One of your hands goes to your belly, starting at your pelvis and slowly working its way up. You feel the rise of it, the roundness while approaching the belly button before it slopes down again. It’s still got so much growing to do. Your baby, Daryl’s baby, yet has so much time left to grow. Will you be stuck here for it, trapped on this bed pinned under evidence of a memory? Is this where your child will be born? Assisted by the hands of a murdering psychopath? Surrounded by the corpses of people that would have been its family?

            Tears flood your eyes while little movements begin inside you. The thought of bringing a child into this cruel and unforgiving world was already unbearable. To bring it into life to suffer under this monster, to never know love or it’s real father, you couldn’t let that happen. You have to get out of here.

            You realize the Governor is approaching you now, a bowl in hand. Quickly you try to wipe the tears away, but they’re still coming.

            “Now now Darlin’, there’s no need to be cryin.” He sits on the edge of the bed, a sick grin on his face. “I promise I’m gunna take real good care of you now, don’ want nothing happening to my baby.

            “Not your baby!” You spit, sneering and leaning away from him. “You can go straight to hell if you think I’m ever going to let you touch this child.”

            He grimaces. “I’d talk a little nicer, trust me when I say I can make this experience more or less comfortable depending on yer’ attitude.” He lifts the spoon from the bowl he’s carrying. “Time to eat.” He moves the spoon towards you.

            You can’t help shuddering. “I can feed myself thank you very much, you reach for the bowl.” You hate to admit it but whatever he’s got smells good, better than the way the rest of the room smells, and better than those protein bars.

            “I’d rather do it like this.” He laughs.

            “Go jump in a lake.” You hiss, turning your head away from the spoon. But there is a sudden impact to the side of your face, hard and jarring. The entire world is stars, and you nearly fall over from the force. He hit you, not just some disciplinary slap, a full force fist to your temple.

            While you’re gasping for air, he leans in to growl in your ear. “Make it easier on yourself hun. I ain’t afraid of beating you into submission if I have to.”


	11. Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Daryl. Sorry it's short, going for shorter chapters so that I can not stress myself out

            When he lays eyes on the building, Daryl’s blood is boiling, and his stomach is churning. It’s an old warehouse, he doesn’t bother looking at the signs to determine for what. The exterior has walkers chained up all around, and for each one he has in chains, there are ten roaming free. He’s not even sure how the Governor himself gets in, much less how he will.

            “Daryl... it’s gonna be alright.” Carol whispers, putting a hand of reassurance on his shoulder.

            The man finds no comfort in the words though. Every horrid possibility is racing through his poor head. The love of his life and their unborn child could now be dead for all he knows.  He balls his hands into fists, forcing himself to not charge in, walkers or no.

            “Maybe through the roof?” Carol points to the adjacent building, it’s a story too low but close enough to make the jump.

            “Naw. Gotta figure out how he goes in and out. Couldn’t a gotten her up that jump.” He’s tapping his foot now, thinking about how scared she must be. “Probably got even more walker on the fuckin roof, we’d just trap ourselves.”

            Carol nods in agreement. “And we may make too much noise, would draw his attention. Only way we can find out how to get in, is to wait till he comes out.”

            With a moment to hesitate, Daryl gives a defeated nod. If they just went in guns blazing, taking down the walkers and kicking in the front door, the girl would be dead, and all would be lost.

            So they waited. For three torturous days, they remained. Making camp in the woods, with one of them always at the treeline watching. Daryl couldn’t sleep, visions of his girl and his baby in some nightmarish hellscape plaguing him every time he closed his eyes. Despite Carol’s persistence, he barely ate, feeling guilty with every bite, these supplies were meant for them so his little one could grow strong, but they cost him everything.

            On the dawn of the third day, Daryl is damn near losing his mind. Blaming himself over and over as he paces the woods. Carol sits, watching the warehouse from the cover of a bush, occasionally casting a worried glance back at her friend.

            He’s quiet, intensely staring at the ground, watching his own feet wear a path into the dirt and dead leaves. The thoughts running through his head are not very different from the ones that night as he lay his head in his lover’s lap, still unaware of the life growing within her beautiful body. ‘My fault. My fault. My fault.’

            ‘Gave up looking for the Governor. So, he took the prison, took my friend’s lives, my family. Now he has her, he has my baby. God fucking damn it all. If I just kept looking, I would have found him, stopped this before it happened. Fuck they’re all dead cause of me, hell she might die cause of me. And if she doesn’t, I can’t let that psycho lay a finger on our baby, I won’t let it happen. How could I let this happen? I shouldn’t have left her alone. Fuck why did I leave her alone?’

            Daryl doesn’t quite realize he’s crying until a hot tear falls from his cheek and hits his boot. He stops, looking at the wet spot on the leather for a moment. Then he drops to his knees and shoves a fist in his mouth to stifle the sobs threatening to reveal their position.

            Carol looks back through the trees, the sight of Daryl in the distance makes her heartache. She may not be able to sympathize with all the feelings that have brought him to his knees, but she can certainly understand the center of the matter. Sophia’s beautiful smile flashes behind her eyes. After so long, the pain is still unbearable, yet she pushes through. Dwelling on the dead only makes it harder to save the living.

            Before she can move to comfort Daryl, a sound startles her. She turns back to the street catching sight of a manhole cover, of all things, being pushed up and away from beneath. The near silent pop of a muffled pistol takes down a walker that’s a bit too interested in the noise. A figure climbs out from underneath.

            “Daryl.” She hisses, watching the Governor stretch his arms and holster his pistol. The monster securely holds his rifle, ready to shoot anything suspicious, before kicking the cover back over the hole and sauntering away.

            The sewers? Is there an access point inside the building? This was their chance.

            It’s time to drag Daryl out of his misery and get this show on the road.


	12. Three days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK  
> also sorta trigger warnings in general, don't read if you're sensitive kind of shit, although that applies to most of the series.

            You don’t know how much time is passing. You couldn’t track your menstrual cycle for shit without a calendar, so no shit you can’t tell how long you’ve been stuck here. You’re lucky, Philip feeds you at regular intervals, escorts you kindly to the ‘toilet,’ and you’ve nearly tuned out the sound of Hershel’s growling head and the stench of the corpse-filled room.

            Well, although the first two are correct, it is not comforting. The latter though… you pray for the strength to block them out.

            For most of this ‘infinite’ imprisonment, you lie on your side. One knee pulled up as far as your stomach will allow, the other limited by the handcuff binding you to the bedpost. One hand grips the collar of your shirt, keeping it pulled over your mouth and nose. The smell of your own sweat and vomit tinged breath is preferable to what surrounds you. The other hand presses fingers into your abdomen as if you can cling to the precious life within. The sound of your former friend’s head, at least it can be drowned out by the screaming that still continues inside your mind. The scream of that awful day. Even the occasional voice that whispers from the dark corners of the room are a relief to block out the damn snarling.

            There is no response, no movement, not even the smallest of butterfly flutterings. Which serves to remind you how completely and utterly alone you are.

            Alone aside from your warden. At the moment he sits in a battered leather armchair nearby. He reads something from the stack of books that were saved from Woodbury before he burned it to the ground. The Governor torments you when the fancy strikes him. Starting conversations about your undead roommates, querying your thoughts of the ‘artistic’ liberties he takes on the rotting flesh. If you do not respond quickly, he crosses the room, grabs you by the shoulders, sits you upright and delivers a fierce slap across the face. Your cheeks ache and burn from his efforts, and the area around your left eye has begun to swell. Then he’ll grip your hair and force you to look at Rick and the others, to admire their desecrated corpses, shaking you if you close your eyes, and not letting go till you tell him how beautiful they are. Sometimes your vision goes hazy, and you can see their faces as they were when they were alive, glaring at you, judging.

            Terror fills your heart. Overflowing and causing you to shake almost always. It makes him laugh when he catches you trembling.

            Today, whatever today means now, your mind wanders to Daryl, although it never really left him. His face, his voice is always in your mind. Simultaneously bringing you comfort and causing pain. If he is alive, he will come for you. Nothing on Earth will stop that man from protecting you, protecting his child. Blue eyes, think about those beautiful blue eyes and the loving shine they get when he looks at you. When he’s by your side again, you’re going to play with that gorgeous chestnut hair all day, and never tease him again about getting a trim. You’re heart pounds as you think about the only thing that will keep the two of you separated, death.

            If he didn’t even make it out of that prison, then there was never any hope of rescue, to begin with. If he did, then there are any number of things that could prevent him from reaching you without meeting an untimely demise. (Thinking about that place makes the memory of the screams grow louder, deafening in your head) Not only because the world out there is dangerous, but the one in here is even more so. At the end of the day, when Daryl finds you, it’s going to come down to a showdown between him and the Governor. In a fair fight, your love would take him down as quickly as a hog in the sights of his bow. The Governor isn’t going to let this be a fair fight though. He holds all the cards, has designed this cage of corpses you are trapped in. Daryl will have to fight his way in, avoiding all the traps the Governor has told you about. And when Daryl gets here, he will be facing down a man who has so many tricks up his sleeve he’d make a killing as a murder magician.

            For a while, the thought of you being trapped here for the rest of your life, carrying and raising Daryl’s child in the Governor’s twisted home was what scared you the most. But when you think of Daryl, and you are always thinking of him, terror and pain, suffering like no other, consumes you at the thought of his death. A world without Daryl Dixon is one too cruel for you to survive. Your childhood friend lost forever, after everything the two of you went through just to stay alive, that thought casts you into a void. The pain of losing him would be so unbearable that already you feel yourself to be a hollow shell at the idea he even might be dead.

            Your mind drifts towards the baby, one of the only things you think about even as close to as frequently as Daryl. You pity it. They will grow up in a harsh world where there is nothing but fear and death. With every bit of your aching heart, you love this baby. You want them to be happy, but how can that happen here? Even if Daryl saves you, can you really force a human being you love this much to live a life that is nothing but suffering? Forget the difficulties of staying safe while you have a crying baby, the struggle of keeping it fed as it grows, every problem that will arise from raising it. Those are all trivial things. As long as they are happy, smiling, healthy, and unafraid you would suffer any burden to care for them, you know Daryl would too, right?

            But as Hobbes said, life is nasty, brutish, and short. Perhaps he was a cynic at the time, his words able to be shrugged off before the end of the world, but now… Now it is more accurate than it’s been since the time of the cave people. At least your college degree can still be put to some use, contemplating the world using old men that have been dead long before this apocalypse. How can you bring a child into this fucking world? To force it to live in fear, and never know joy or safety. Perhaps your thoughts back in that moonshiner’s cabin were on the right track, end this before the baby has to suffer. A mercy killing before it knows life. (In the darkest corner of the room somebody long dead chants this.)

            Your back hurts almost as much as your brain. A creaking pain, it feels like the bones in your spine are rubbing together, chipping off bits and pieces. You never thought that you would miss walking, being up and around. This is not rest, there are too much tension and stress for your body to recover from the weeks of running. You try to roll over, careful of the handcuffed ankle, but groan when a wave of nausea hits. Something in your gut feels like roadkill on a hot summer day. So, you bolt upright, retching and covering your mouth, world spinning from the quick motion, worsening the roiling in your belly.

            The Governor glances up from his book and sighs. “Again? Really?” As though you do this on purpose. He grabs a nearby bucket, that has seen a use for this too many times now, and brings it to the bed.

            He doesn’t make you clean the bucket every time you hurl your last meal into it, that is the only relief. Everything inside you is on fire when it comes up, and nothing is left behind. While your throat burns, you can’t help releasing small sobs between hacks and heaves. You really must be a crude sight, pregnant, handcuffed to a bed, puking into a bucket while snot runs out of your nose and cries escape your lips. Philp seems to think so, you catch him sneering at you when trying to look up at him, gasping for air and shaking even more than usual, before turning your head to the bucket again to allow another round of vile vomit to escape you.

            Truthfully, this isn’t too different from how it was out on the road. Daryl held your hair back nearly every day, almost always twice, while you covered the forest floor with your guts. He became a lot more comforting about it after learning the cause was pregnancy rather than illness. It’s the stress, during the lost pregnancies you were not often sick. But the stench of the corpse-filled world, the danger that follows your every step, the horror that encompasses every aspect of your being, your body can’t take it.

            The bucket sloshes when the Governor takes it from you and looks as though he could be sick himself at sight of its contents, but luckily he is silent as he carries it off to dump out. Perhaps he doesn’t know what to say? The man is cruel, but is there really any point in torturing you at a moment that your body is torturing itself? The crusty bedsheets are the only thing you have to wipe your chin with, the edge at the foot of the bed is the chosen spot for the task.

            When Philip returns, you have both hands gingerly resting on the roundness of your growing belly with your shirt pulled up so you can look properly at it so you can stare down at it with mixed emotions. Fear that something might be wrong, the baby unwell because your body is under so much pressure both inside and out. Regret that you can not protect it cannot keep it safe from all the terrible things. Dark, contemplative thoughts about the idea you might have to bring an end to this pregnancy, this unstarted life. Then the screaming starts again, and those thoughts are scattered.

            You’re caught by surprise when the Governor sits beside you on the bed. When he sleeps, it is beside you, not touching you, luckily, but it is not the time for him to yet, right? You don’t remember the last time you slept when you try, eldritch horrors plague your mind till you wake up half screaming, with nobody to hold you and say things will be okay. Your entire body goes even tenser than usual when he reaches out towards you. A hand that murdered your friends, that beats you to comply with his sick wishes, and has done so many terrible things the blood can never be washed clean.

            You don’t stop him from resting his hand on your bump, but eye him warily as he begins to caress the exposed skin. There is a disturbing look in his one good eye, not malice, but a sick and twisted caring. A smile is on his lips, does he really think this child is his? The Governor moves closer to you, and still, you do not stop him, both terrified of him hitting you again, but also guiltily finding comfort in the tender human contact. You do not relax when his other arm wraps around your waist, and grit your teeth when he nestles his chin into the crook of your neck.

            Something is happening at the edge of your vision, but you try to ignore it. Flashes of unreal things have begun again, but you do what you can to block them out. Reality is terrible enough without fantasy tearing your mind to pieces. So you look down at your rounding belly again, trying to tune out the unreal, watching the Governor’s hand, ready to lash out if he makes a move you do not like, unafraid of a beating in response.

            You still have one hand on the underside, although there’s not a terrible amount to cup, the bulge still being in early stages, you try to find some comfort it what is there. But relief does not come, the mix of emotions inside you are waging war. The flashes of false reality are getting worse, and your breathing becomes sharp as things start spinning out of control.

            “Phi…” Your mouth tries to form words but things are fuzzy, and your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth.

            He tries to take on a tender tone to respond. “Yes dea…whoa.” Your body goes limp as you lose the strength to keep yourself together, and you can barely hear him asking what’s wrong while the edges of your vision go black.

            But only the edges. What you can see, are horrible things. The Governor’s precious pieces of art are suddenly alive, watching you. The screams that plague your mind grow in intensity, the voices in the shadows are no longer whispering.

            “You deserve this.” Carl is laughing at you.

            “She does, and she knows it. She let us die, this will be her hell forever.” Rick says in agreement.

            Your eyes flit between figures, watching them break their chains, watching them approach you. You can’t even struggle, there’s no energy left in your body to fight. All you can do is whimper like the scared child that you are as the screaming gets louder.

            This goes on for hours, and unfortunately, the Governor doesn’t leave your side at all, only adding to the distress that is consuming you. He strokes your hair as if it will bring you comfort. The things he whispers are drowned out by the screaming. The sobs that you let out are vicious, the only thing your weak body can do is cry so you cry your heart out.

            You wish you were dead.

            Never in all this horrible life had you wished it until now. You aren’t strong enough for this world. You just want it to be over.

            “Gunna gets you medicine, don’t worry the baby will be okay, not gonna let anything happen to it.” Is what you understand your warden saying as he lays you on the med. It’ll be the first time he’s left if you’re following him correctly.

            “No medicine is going to fix you,” Hershel says from the stool his head rests on.

            You try to keep your eyes on him, but your vision is obscured by the hallucinations. The surround the bed, standing over you, yelling, accusing. They won’t stop. They don’t stop until darkness consumes you, your body too weak to remain conscious.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, for the record… I’m sorry. If you’re sensitive to certain materials you really shouldn’t be reading a lot of my work, I’m not just talking about living dead type things. I try really hard to evoke an emotional response and just… I mean I’m sure most of you will enjoy it if you read it, I worked really hard on it, but like suspense and tension is a thing I want to get better at writing. But if you’re going to read it don’t quit midway through, remember that it’s always darkest before the dawn

            When you come to things are finally, blissfully quiet. No more screaming, not yet. The sounds of your dungeon soon begin to penetrate the cloud in your mind, the clank of chains, the growling head. Compared to the voices though, to the screaming, they are beautiful. The Governor has not returned, but you feel as though you were unconscious for no more than a few hours.

            Somehow you have the strength to sit up. Now may be your only moment only, your only chance to decide what comes next. Numbness begins to take place in your chest, right in the middle, then radiating outwards, slowly you lose the ability to feel anything. Examining the handcuff around your ankle confirms that there is no breaking it, but as you considered before, the bedpost might be your escape.

            Escape to where? The dead world outside? To live in fear until you’re inevitably consumed by the unliving. If Daryl is not waiting for you out there, if Carol and he did not survive the prison, you would be on your own.

            The posts are short, topped by round knobs that the cuff is tightened just underneath of. Examining these dark wooden orbs reveals a seam in the woodwork underneath. It seems the Governor didn’t think about everything when he set up your imprisonment, where ever he got this bed. However he got it here, it would seem that when he cuffed you to the damn post, he didn’t check to make sure the post doesn’t just screw off.

            You’re cold. Colder than you’ve ever been in your entire life. The screaming starts again, but it’s different this time. It’s not the screams of adults gunned down by a madman. It’s almost like Judith’s wailing, you and Daryl tried to save her. When he ran for you, you went for the poor girl, but it was too late. The wailing stopped before you even saw the walker hunched over her carrier. But it’s not Judith’s screaming wracking your brain while your cold hands work to unscrew the knob.

            When it comes away, and you can slip your cuff free of the post, a three-inch screw is revealed attached to the dark wood. It glistens in the filthy light that sneaks between the boards on the windows. A pointed, deadly tip, a weapon. To end the Governor Yes, most certainly. But there’s another purpose it can bring.

            Your baby’s scream rings through your head. You can’t protect it, you’ll never be able to. It will suffer a short and cruel life and die in fear and agony. There’s only one way you can save your precious child.

 

            Philip kept stashes, hideouts, always paranoid. The bunker is safe enough, but what if somebody got it? Figured a way past the walkers, or avoided all his traps. Then he’d have nothing, certainly nothing with which to hunt the bastard down and punish them. So he kept many of his supplies, and he had gathered many after all the things he had done, held in places that nobody could accidentally stumble upon.

            He knew exactly which three stashes had the medications that could help the woman. Bitterly he recalled how ill his wife would become while she was pregnant with his little Penny, and all the things she took to keep their unborn baby girl healthy. Medications prescribed by her doctor, vitamins of all sorts. Although this wretched girl’s condition is far worse than his wife’s was, he knew that with these he could bring her health up to code. Anti-nausea pills with some herbal teas so she’ll stop ejecting everything he feeds her. Immune system boosters, ibuprofen to stabilize the fever she was getting. Philip wasn’t sure what to do about the hallucinations she appears to be having, assuming she’s not faking, but some vitamins should help get her level headed again.

            The man knew that he couldn’t just allow this unborn child. He didn’t have the medical experience necessary to understand how to deal with a miscarriage, and if the bitch died so would go his last chance at having something to fill the hole in his heart. Even if she survives, there’s no guarantee he could impregnate her himself, she would undoubtedly fight back viciously and find ways to terminate such pregnancies herself.

            This was his self-rationalizing explanation for it. In truth over the three days she has been his prisoner, he had already grown an attachment to the child within her. This man would be devastated to lose the child, for he has already begun to think of it as his own. To see her in such a state admittedly terrified him. Philip held her during her episode and tried to offer comfort, a great distress brewing in his gut over the thought that something might be wrong with ‘his’ child.

            “Honey I’m home.” He calls teasingly as he reentered the bunker. The only response is a sniffling whining that makes him grit his teeth. Ungrateful brat needs to keep her mouth shut. That kind of shit was annoying and getting old fast.

            The Governor glances around his humble abode, feeling something isn’t right. The walkers are agitated, shuffling around more so than their norman complacent sway. Without arms or teeth, the creatures are no threat, and typically don’t do more than stand and stare at him and his prisoner. Certainly it is no more than a squirrel that has found its way inside, or some other creature, but he still approaches the shadows to investigate what has his dogs so riled up.

            A sudden cry diverts him. His head snaps towards the bed, to look upon the woman curled up on it. His heart quickens, something isn’t right, she wasn’t lying like that before, was she? That tense, shaking like a leaf. Another cry, she’s in pain, clearly. Her groans are more terrifying than the ones of the walkers.

            Philip’s throat is dry. “What’s wrong darling?” His path changes, he approaches the bed with long strides.

            “The baby…” Her voice is shaking, her body goes rigid, and she whines, clearly a wave of great pain passing through her. “I think… I think something’s… AH!” The thought of this being a trick doesn’t even begin to occur to the Governor, the only thought in his head is that something is wrong with his child. She whispers, apparently barely able to speak. “Help me, Philip… I don’t want to lose my baby… please…”

            His heart sinks at the sight of crimson staining his bedsheets. “Oh, hun…” There is immense sorrow in his heart. All this for nothing, to come to care for a child that would never be born. Hands are shaking when he moves to comfort her.

            And he is caught by surprise when, with a move far too agile for the condition he left her in, she flips over and lunges at him. In her hand, she is clenching a knife. ‘Where on Earth did she get a knife’ briefly flashes through his head while topping backward to avoid having his throat slit.

            “You fucking bitch!” He shouts, drawing his own blade. But before he can make any use of it, an arm wraps round his neck from behind, and he recognizes the distinct feeling of the barrel of a pistol pressed against his back.

            “I ought to pull this trigger and be done with ya…”

            The slow crawl through the sewers had been agonizing for Daryl. He had wanted nothing more than to run through the tunnels. The man was so close to his beloved but would be useless to her if he was blown to pieces.

            Carol could feel her friend’s anxiety over their snail pace, and she too wanted only to get to the girl as fast as possible. But each booby trap they came across reinforced the careful nature of their approach. Trip wires to detonate small bombs put together from what the damn Governor took from those army men he massacred, and if not an explosive than it was rigged up to a shotgun pointed at their heads. In the darkness it would be so easy to miss something, their flashlights barely illuminated the slimy walls, and only penetrated a few feet into the nothingness. So every single step was made just after making entirely sure that it would not be their last. At times the darkness was so pervasive that the only way they knew the other was there was by the wet schlopping of their boots unsticking from the muck covering the floor, and the reassurance of their breathing.

            Of course, they couldn’t even take the most direct route. The Governor had made sure the path leading to his bunker was inaccessible, forcing himself and invaders to take a winding way through the sewers. It seems almost as if he had taken shells from the tank and put fuses to them. Blowing sections of the sewer to bits, forcing it to collapse on itself. He most certainly had fun doing such.

            The most terrifying aspect though was not the thought of a missed wire or walker in the shadows. What for the Governor is probably a fifteen-minute stroll knowing when are where to avoid the traps and which direction to take, was countless hours for our heroes. At any moment their adversary could make his return, and be upon them before reaching the damsel in distress. Time was far from being on their side, and if it went sideways, they’re doomed to some fate worse than death. Carol could only barely imagine the things the monster might do to them, but all Daryl could think about was the fate of his best friend.

            “I’m gonna string him up by his intestines,” Daryl mumbled knuckles white from gripping his bow. “I’m gonna treat him to every pain known to mankind. He will suffer every…”

            “And what about her?” Carol whispered.

            Daryl’s heart hit his sewer gunk covered boots. He’d been so wrapped up in what was happening to her physically, that he couldn’t even begin to imagine the emotional toll this was taking on her. That had never been his strong suit, understanding the emotions of others. For all the long years they had been together he always struggled to grasp what she ‘felt’ about things. He knew she’s strong, every day he saw her fight to keep moving, exhaustion doesn’t stop her, but something else might. She won’t be okay. Even if she and the baby are safe, she won’t be okay.

            He wasn’t okay. “I won’t leave her alone ever again.”

            “Daryl I’m no therapist, and I don’t think one could even begin to help here. But this is… she’s going to need help… she’ll need…” Even Carol didn’t properly know what to say at this point. The girl would need something, and it was a lot more than a hug.

            “I know…” Daryl couldn’t lose her, she’s all he has left. For as much as he cared for Carol, losing his girl and his baby would leave him an empty shell even Carol couldn’t console. Through that entire crawl through the sewers, there was a thought that he couldn’t get out of his head, that invaded every idea of revenge, every feeling of holding her in his arms. The notion that even if he could save her from the Governor, from this world, he could not save his lover from herself. He could not protect his child from the woman carrying it. That thought it would not be a man or walker that takes her from him. Not childbirth, illness, injury. Not time. Daryl could lose her or their baby because she might not be able to keep going.

            Which is why he screamed when he saw her. Not knowing what the hell she was holding. Just that it was shiny and sharp and pointed straight at her gut, that was all he knew. He screamed her name so loud his voice cracked. It echoed through the building and agitated every walker both inside and out.

            That scream hit you like god’s lighting. First, you looked at the wretched thing in your hands, shocked, as if you couldn’t understand how it came to be there. Then you looked up towards Daryl, a warm flame starting in your heart and melting away the ice that had consumed you. As the numbness faded, you knew with absolute certainty that this was no hallucination. As you began to feel again, tears bubbled in your eyes.

            “Daryl!” You cried out, so confused by everything going on that you didn’t realize he was approaching fast, his arms already wrapped around you before the last sound left your lips. He held you so tight you thought you might burst. Those tears didn’t stop coming, and they wouldn’t stop coming. You could feel your shirt growing wet where his face pressed into it, his tears seeping through the fabric to your skin. Like the first raindrops upon the surface of the primordial earth, they brought life to your body. ”I didn’t… I didn’t know if you were alive…” The words were choked out. You took in the smell of his sweat, solidifying the fact that he’s real. Your sorrow, your doubts were washed away by the sound of his heartbeat. “You were in there for so long… I’ve been here for so long… I didn’t… I thought… you weren’t coming…” Your soul hurt, stripped to its bare minimum and left raw, aching.

            “Don’t do it,” Daryl whispered into your tired body, so overwhelmed he could barely get the words out. “Please.” Exhausted and confused, you couldn’t even begin to understand what he was talking about.

            A cold hand came to yours, holding the bedpost spike. “Please…” It’s Carol, somehow you had entirely missed her presence, but hearing her voice brought great comfort as well. You turned your head just enough to see her, see the terrible sadness in her eyes.

            “You have to keep fightin’…” Daryl was shaking, still holding you as though you would suddenly vanish. “No matter what happens… whatever happens to me you have to keep fightin’.” Your grip on the instrument of suffering loosened, allowing Carol to take it from you. With your hands now free you were able to wrap them around your love in return, gripping the angel wings on his back, wishing you didn’t ever have to let go.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl x Reader
> 
> The long awaited (I’m sorry) update to my Daryl and pregnancy reader series number one. (I plan on getting to the other one, New Life, tomorrow and tonight I’m going to try and work on some other writing projects but look I posted a thing yay) 
> 
> For those of you who have forgotten where we were. You were in a Damsel in distress situation, THe Govorner having captured you and planning to use you and your baby for a sick game of house. But don’t despair, Daryl and Carol have arrived to rescue you, but now Philip’s fate must be decided.
> 
> I’m going to do some time compressed writing for the next few chapters, just because it’s been so long since I wrote that my mind can’t quite get back into the arc so I need to switch the train tracks. I hope at least a few of you were still eagerly awaiting this and enjoy it.

Sunshine on your cheeks, on fingertips press to grimy glass, on your exposed stomach. Three days they said. It felt like a lifetime. A life without sun, without hope, love. But the lifetime of and fear and darkness are behind you now, and god freedom never felt so good

In the background of your peaceful moment, the car engine is a dull rumble. Carol drives your soon to be growing group down the road towards the uncertain future. You’re so glad to have her back. That gentle woman would tear down mountains to keep her family safe. You can’t even imagine what she went through after everything that happened. Perhaps she feels as guilty about not being there to do something as you do about deserting them. Although you don't know what lies ahead, behind is something you will never forget. The prison, your friends, Woodbury, and the Governor.

So what happened to the Governor?

_“We have to be better than him.” As much as you wanted vengeance the all the things that cruel beast had done to your family. As desperately as Daryl wanted the man dead. “We kill him… it's only a matter of time before we become him.” Maybe it was your delusional state because you were so worked up, tired, fuzzy-headed; but despite being surrounded by your dead friends while looking down on the man who took their lives, you couldn't let it happen._

Daryl is tangled up with you in the backseat, he pulls you closer to his chest while you watch the shadows of the passing world move across your baby bump. In another life, he'd never be this affectionate in front of somebody. That was then, and this is Carol. She has changed him for the better since they met, he became more loving and made you feel more care for. She made him more gentle, and it's nice, but you have always been jealous it was another woman who affected this change rather than yourself.

_“We can't just leave him!” Daryl had snapped. “He could follow us. He’ll try that's for sure.”_

_“You're right…” You said, fingers under your shirt trying to focus on the life within you and let its beauty calm you. But you were still shaking, terrified, overwhelmed, light-headed, and nauseous. At this point, you weren't even sure how you were still conscious or coherent. Looking to Carol, you hoped she might be able to back you up, understand your concern at the very least. “But we can get far enough away he won’t ever find us… and we can just… forget about him, right Carol?”_

_Her eyes were glued to Rick’s swaying walker corpse, and you couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “He’s dangerous… We could have easily ended up on his… ‘trophy wall.’” She spat that part, and your heart sunk. But when she turned to look at you she saw that look in your eyes and you saw her’s, she understood. “But he can’t hurt us now. So we have to move on, be better.”_

_“He killed our people! Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Carl! I had to put my own damn brother down.” Daryl was choking up now. He kept managing to make it seem like he has it all together, that he’s okay, for your sake perhaps. Your mind went back to the moonshine cabin, to drunk Daryl crying his eyes out. “For fucksake he killed Judith! You still hear her screaming but want to bring our kid into a world where you know he's around?”_

_You caught sight of Philip in the corner of your eye, bound to the chair. He was gagged to prevent further torment upon you, but you could see the delighted look in his eyes. He wins no matter how this goes down, doesn’t he? “I know Daryl, don’t go thinking for a moment that I don’t want him dead just as badly as you do.”_

The car goes over a bump in the road, shaking you around a bit. Daryl steadies you. Something, no, not something you silly, the baby shifts inside you, responding to the sudden jolting. It warms your heart, causes a delighted smile to break out on your face. You rub your swollen stomach and turn your head to look at your Daryl. You are so excited to tell him, you know he won’t be able to feel it yet but you want to let him know, talk all about how something is living and growing and fucking moving around inside you. That smile fades at his furrowed brows, the dark look in his eyes, and his stern lips. The wriggling in your gut is still once more.

He has spoken no more than a few words in the days since you escape that hell house. Having little to say is commonplace for the man, but this silence is heavier. It carries the air of something bitter.

_“He has to die!” Daryl pointed an angry finger at your bound captor. “After everything he's done, we can't just let him walk away!”_

_Your emotions were boiling inside. You everything was spinning, and you were so scared and angry and sad. There's only one thing you knew for sure._

_“The killing has to stop.”_

You start to sit up pulling away from Daryl, but his arms are stronger than your will. So you settle again, awkwardly turned away. He stiffens when he realizes you're upset. You are very upset. It’s something red hot at the back of your mouth. Flaming coal that you swallowed.

_“It will, once he’s dead we don't have to worry about that anymore.” You couldn't believe what you were hearing coming out Daryl's mouth. Kind and gentle Daryl Dixon, the love of your life, arguing for the right to take a life._

_“Daryl please.” You whispered._

_“Daryl listen to her.” Perhaps Carol could be the one to talk sense into him, that’s what you hoped at least._

You pull away again from Daryl. Mind dark with memories and this time he lets you go. Of course, the peaceful moment couldn't last forever, nothing good ever does

“Doing all right back there little mama?” Carol’s eyes in the rearview mirror are soft but knowing.

“I’m fine.” You untangle yourself from Daryl, needing to distance yourself from him while the memory plays vividly in your head. Leaning against the window opposite the man your eyes lock onto the blur of passing trees.

_“Daryl put the gun down.” You pleaded with him. “Killing him won't bring them back, it won't make things better.” The world's become a dark place since the apocalypse, and the hearts of its people are twisted up they turned into terrible creatures like Philip Blake_

_“No, but it will make things right.”_

“Need me to pull over?” The car starts to slow, Carol reaches back to put a comforting hand on your knee.

Your face is in your hands trying to hide the tears. “I just need to be… alone.”

“Babe…”You can sense his hand reaching out.

_“It won't, it'll just make you a killer.” The thought of losing Daryl's heart to the madness of this reality terrified you more than the Governor had in all the days he tormented you._

_There were six seconds of silence. You barely remember the click of the trigger, but the explosion of the gun is imprinted on your brain, still ringing in your ears to this day._

“Don't ‘babe’ me!” You slap his hand away before turning to face as much away from him as you can.

Carol is stunned into silence

Daryl lets out a noise like a shot dog and doesn't move. His eyes burn holes into your back. He stumbles over syllables trying to form words.

You didn't know what to say either. With despair, you try to pull your mind together. Think about the days before, when you were kids playing cops and robbers, when you were teens spray painting the principal's car, your first kiss every tender moment you ever shared. Think about them. Remember your best friend Daryl, your lover, the father of your unborn child

The child who reacted violently inside your uterus as a gunshot sung through the air. Still stuch tiny flutterings yet more than you have ever felt. Each brush of movement a nail in your heart.


	15. Chapter 15

            You stand with your hands flat against the roof of the car as though you're being frisked. Rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet to try and stretch out the aches in my lower back. To say I feel uncomfortable is more than an understatment. Not only because of the growing weight on me, the swelling of my andles, the tenderness of my breasts, or the pains in my side. I can't look at Daryl without seeing his face when he pulled the trigger. His eyes were so cold and empty, lips twisted into a sneer. Those eyes have been following him since you all left that horrible place. I can't be held by the most important person I've ever known without remembering how your poor baby spasmed in my belly as that gunshot went off.  They have not moved more than the ocasional shifting since that day, nothing compares to that movement.

            "Only a few more days until we get to the farm." Carol rubs your back. "You going to make it?"

            "How is it that traveling on foot while starving was easier than by car while stuffing myself like a pig every day?" Your growth spurts have not been small, you can see a differnce every day.

            "Baby is making up for lost time little momma, it's gotta grow now that it's gettin it's nutrients." She lowers her voice, looking down the road where Daryl is pacing. "But… are you two going to make it?"

            You pause, heart racing; you're trying topicture that beautiful boy you grew up with but it's a faded image. "I don't know…"

            "May I?" She moves her hand to hover over your belly. You nod, and she rests it where your shirt has grown taught. You've already had to go up another jean size, but you're putting off wearing those baggy t-shirts from the thrift store for as long as you can. A nice dress would be so welcome right now. After a moment of Carol rubbing and cooing (which makes you feel real good) you catch Daryl stopping and staring out of the corner of your eye. "I don't blame you for bein upset, but shutting him out won't do good for anybody, especially this baby of yours." She smiles, giving a small spot a firm rub. "I think I found the head, still so tiny."

            You chuckle. "No way, head has been down here all day." You rest your fingers on the opposite side, lower down.

            "I know what a baby head feels like dear, I grew one myself remember?" She is watching the street, but you refuse to give Daryl any more glances.

            "Listen, I know you have experience, and I respect that. Hell I'm glad for that because I'd be fucked without somebody who knows this crap. But I am telling you, the little buggers head has been pressing down here since it woke me up by shifting." You cringe as your side cramps. "What is up with these pains in my side? They alright?"

            "Round ligament pains, it's your body being stretched to accomodate. Come here now." Carol gently turns you, resting her other hand where you were indicating. As she feels around she muses under her breath, you barely catch it. "You'd be surprised how much Daryl knows if you asked him." You roll your eyes, and try to push him out of your head. After a couple minutes she purses her lips. "They are just fine, they are strong just like their parents." She looks up and over your shoulder while holding your stomach at both locations. "They both are."

            A thousand thoughts flash through your mind at once. Tears immedietly fill your eyes and you honestly can't tell if it's from joy or fear or whatever the word is for that feeling when you know with absolute certainty that you will fail to provide even a shred of the happy life these two deserve. You can't keep it together and a sob begins to take over.

            "Twins?" Daryl's voice is right behind you, shaky. "We're havin' twins?" You turn to face him, and your deepest instict is to fall into his arms and cry. "That's…"

            "Don't say it!" You snatch Daryl's hand before he can rest it on your swelling stomach. "It's not amazing, it's not great, it's not even good. It's awful."

            He goes ridgid, but doesn't fight your grip. "Don' say that… it's a miricle!"

            "It's another thing to lose!" You shout, shoving him away and turning back to Carol, who takes you into her arms.

            "Please, jus' let me feel, they're my babies let me feel!" Daryl pleads, which only enrages you more.

            "Don't remind me, I keep remembering that I'm carrying a murderous psychopath's spawn!" You regret the words the moment they come out. No taking them back now though. "There's nothing good left in this world. Even you've been corrupted by it. They'll be corrupted too, if they even survive. Live or die I lose them. Like I'm losing you. I see it in your eyes. I don't know who you are anymore…"

            Daryl's voice is sad and broken. "I'm yours. Your Daryl. I always have been. I always will be."

            "Then why did you shoot him when we could have walked away? Why did you make my babies hear that awful noise?" You turn just enough to see him, to see if he cares.

            He goes completly white aside from the dirt streating his cheeks. "They heard? How do you…"

            "Because I felt them! I felt their fear as they moved around inside me! The first big movment and it's because they don't know if mommy can keep them safe and they were scared!" You try to wipe the tears away. "Thank god they didn't know it was daddy murdering a man."

            He nearly collapses, falling against the car and trying to support himself as he absorbs the knowledge. Maybe it's a little thing. Maybe it's a big thing. But it's the first thing. First in a chain reaction of bad, bad things that are going to ruin these poor children. Your heart closes up again, the pain too much to bear, taking no desire to comfort him as the guilt consumes him. You're going to lose everything.

            Maybe you shouldn't have made it out of the prison.

            Maybe you shouldn't make it at all.


	16. Read the Summary please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So obviously I'm bad at updating this. A lot has happened and to be honest, my writing mojo left me especially regarding this series. But I still love this one and the everything about it, it's my favorite. So as an attempt to reignite my desire to write and other's to read, I'm going to be going back over the whole series and re-editing it. Some parts may be altered slightly for grammar and better word choice, some content might be added here and there, sections could be re-written all together, and I might even change some of the plot points, depending on how things feel. I'm glad so many of you love this series and I seriously hope you will enjoy the re-write. This will be the last chapter of the 'old' version and expect me to post the re-write soon in a separate work.  
> Enjoy some young reader and Daryl and how they used to work through their emotions

Daryl has never been a believer in God and the Devil or angels and demons. But that woman, she is such an utterly perfect being that it damn near makes him religious; she must have fallen from heaven, or descended, or abandoned it. When his angel was in college things got tough for a few months, and then tougher for a few more, then downright awful for nearly a year. She’s so smart, he used to tell her all the time, used to tell her what great things she would do with her life. Daryl curses himself for not telling her more. Back then he said it every day.

Daryl had just returned from his first ‘adventure’ with Merle when they realized things wouldn’t be the same anymore. She was stuck in her second year of college, desperately trying to maintain a perfect GPA so the financial aid wouldn’t fall through. They were twenty-one, she’d be twenty-two in the spring. Before Merle showed up, Daryl did mechanic’s work and odd jobs to help with her college fund, but it still took a couple of years to get all the funding together.

“You said you’d only be gone a couple of weeks.” She mumbled from her desk, where her hand scratched furiously at a term paper first draft.

“What was that?” Daryl craned his neck to look at her from his spot lying on the bed. He wanted her so badly. Wanted to hold her, to whisper in her ear, to fuck her to pieces. They hadn’t had sex since before he left six months ago. Still, he wanted her to do well in school even more than she did, and had no intention of coming between his sweetheart and her homework.

She didn’t have the same feelings though, or at least they were buried under a layer of bitter ice. “Nothing babe.” Her leg was bouncing while she flipped through textbooks and print-outs from sources, trying to find facts that backed up her thesis. “Why don’t you go on to the bar with Merle and my brother? I’ve got some cash in my purse you can take.” Even as quiet as he was being, the young man was the biggest distraction on Earth. Him being in the same room with her, right then, set off a chain reaction of emotions and she found herself writing sentences twice or more, amongst other strange errors.

“Don’t wanna go out.” He sat up and scratched the back of his head. “Need to be with you, even if I can only watch.”

She sighed, refusing to turn and look at him. “I’ll still be here when you get back…” '…if you come back…’ “I’m just really stressed right now and need to be alone.”

That stung Daryl a bit. “I mean if you want me to go away, it’s just been so long since I got to look at you.” He didn’t quite understand where her hostility was coming from; he was elated to be in the same room as her. “But it’s been… can’t I stay? Please. It hurts bein’ away from you.”

“It hurts me too, that’s the point.” The girl had never been that upset at her boyfriend, in fact, she wasn’t sure she had ever been upset at him at all. “As long you’re away I hurt like hell. If you stay, I want to fall into your arms and give myself to you completely like I always do, and I don’t have time for that.” Her right hand is in her hair, pulling it from the root, while the other still desperately writes. “And either way I"m sitting here angry at you and it’s fucking my writing skills over so hard, and I need you to get out of here so at least I don’t scream and make things worse.”

The young Dixon boy had been more than a little taken aback when she made her declaration of anger. “ I’m sorry.” He was and was realizing that she wasn’t just aching from the separation, but hurting. He hurt her, and wouldn’t it be one of the greatest sins to harm an angel.

“Course you are.” She sighed, pushing locks of beautiful hair out of her face. “But it’s not going to stop you from doing it again.”

He fidgeted, which made the bedsprings squeak. “Merle’s the only family I got… can’t just leave family.”

She sighed even deeper, more upset by his statement. “You just don’t get it.” A textbook was slammed shut and dropped on a stack by her feet, and a new one pulled from a shelf above her head. “You’re sitting over there nursing a hard-on like some soldier boy on leave waiting for his dutiful wife to finish cleaning up after dinner so he can fuck me raw before going off to war again.” She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to finish her comparison.

Daryl grabbed one of her dozen pillows scattered across the bed and placed it in his lap; she hadn’t even looked at him in an hour, how did she know? “Am not!” Real mature Dixon. He, at this point, had finally spoken more words to her than he had the entire time he was gone. Impressive when you’re comparing half a year with. Two. Hours.

She switched writing hands and spoke mo more. The thing about those dutiful wives is they never know if their husbands are dead or alive. Not till there’s a knock on the door and it’s either him, or it’s a solemn soldier. The girl decided she wouldn’t say anything else.

That term paper was going nowhere. No matter how hard she tried, the ideas wouldn’t line up with coherent sentences. She was, in ascending order of intensity; horny, grade stressed, angry, scared, exhausted. What kind of future was she even trying to reach? If Daryl wasn’t in it what was the point? She’d drop everything and follow him around the world if it meant being by his side. And while there’s a lot to dissect in that statement, the vital fact is; how long would it be until Merle showed up at her doorstep to tell her that he had gotten his baby brother killed. (If she even gets that courtesy) Some of that fear carried over to the present day, every time Daryl left the relative safety of camp she was petrified he wasn’t going to come back, at least not alive. What would she do if he just never came back?

            “Please stop cryin’…” Baby faced Daryl said weakly. “You know I can’ stand seein’ you cry.”

            The paper was drenched in tears. The ink was smudging. The quiet room had been filled with her heartbroken sobbing for nearly an hour, and Daryl didn’t have a clue what to do so he froze. She’d been scribbling for the past ten minutes; now she dropped the pen, and it hit the desk with a thunderclap, then rolled across the lacquered desk until it fell to the floor.

            After an agonizing moment, she found the strength to speak. “Are we over?”

            To this day, Daryl remembers the moment of the epiphany; he abandoned her; he left her with no indication that he was ever coming back. “That’s not… no… no, no, no!” He felt like a complete asshole. “Come here… baby come here.”

            She barely made it out of her chair, in fact, she didn’t. It was a half scoot out before falling on her ass. For the first time that night she turned to face him; he wanted somebody to heat the shit out of him as punishment for hurting her so awful; her lovely eyes were bloodshot; her entire perfect face bright red and blotchy with tears soaking her cheeks, jaw, even dripping into her mouth; she deserved so much better than him. It was a short crawl to the bed; dragging her body across the floor because she didn’t have the will to make her legs work. (Honestly, the shit looked like something out of a horror movie, some kind of grotesque, sobbing zombie.)

            Daryl helped her onto the bed, nearly in tears himself. She was dead weight, and it took all his strength to get her onto the mattress. He received his angel into his arms and cradled her against his chest. Allowing her to sob until her throat was raw. Rocking back and forth with his face buried into her hair, crying as well now.

            “I thought I lost you.”

            “Never. You will never lose me.”

            When Daryl’s darling angel cried, he used to be able to make things better by stroking her hair and humming. Eventually, she would cry herself out and just lie in his arms listening to his heart. That night long ago, she didn’t just fall asleep as was custom. They had been apart for so long that the intensity of her raw emotions pushed her to a state of desire and openness. She needed her soulmate to touch the parts of her left tender. To explore the cavern exposed by the earthquake. She needed to be one with him, to merge their souls in intimacy. So she could remember what it feels like to be whole because she is only complete when he loves her.

            Her hand gave up its vice grip on his shirt, slid down his young, lean body till it slipped between his legs and she palmed her boyfriend’s half-erection through his dirty jeans. Daryl was caught off guard and so sensitive from months without a touch from another that he immediately tilted his head back and moaned from the buzz of pleasure that took over his member, spreading down his thighs and up to his stomach. The hand in her hair gripped tightly as she began to kiss his neck, nipping and sucking right where she knew it got him riled up. The angel whined in needy desperation, her other hand taking his and bringing it to her lips. He let her taste him, run a tongue along his first two digits, before taking them into her warm mouth and sucking on them.

            The young Daryl paused, pulled away to look directly at her. “You… ah… you got a… fuck stop doin’ that when I’m tryin’ to talk…” She giggled and temporarily quit teasing the growing bulge between his legs. “You got a tongue stud?”

            Her throat was still too trashed from crying for her to laugh, or even speak. She released Daryl’s fingers with a popping noise, then stuck her tongue all the way out so he could see the colored bubble on the center of it, it was their favorite color.

            “Thought you said those were unprofessional.” He teased lightly, moving to lightly grace the diamond earring on one lobe with his fingers and glancing on the one that sparkles on the other, the only thing of value she owned. The girl only ever took them off to clean them and was a savant at the art of not losing them.

            She tilted her head, smirking, and shrugged.

            “You said nobody would hire you, take ya seriously if you fill your body with metal and ink.” Daryl murmmered while her hand worked up under his shirt so she could trace the tattoos on his back. He leaned into her kiss deeply, she parted her lips in permission for his tongue to explore and feel the piercing for himself.

            And while he was spending time enjoying the natural taste of his angel, those saliva slicked fingers made their way to the hem of her PJ bottoms. They slipped under the flannel fabric and wasted no time passing her pubic mound and finding the warm folds of her entrance as she spread her legs for him.

            Fire began in her core the moment he touched her, and she quickly became wet as his fingers ran along the sensitive flesh, finding her clit. Perhaps it was the fallout of her outburst, the longing from their separation, or the phase of the moon that made her so quick to arouse, caused her entire body to prepare itself for him. All of her being wanted him to claim her, lay her out; however he pleased and fuck her like the horny primal creatures they were.

            She broke their kiss with a desperate whine as he probed her vagina, one finger pressing in half an inch and pulling out, and then another did the same. Her hands (far too adept at this, which got him far too excited back then) popped the button and practically tore open his jeans. As predicted, well what was the point of calling it a prediction when it was always this way one-hundred percent of the damn time, nothing lay between the denim and his throbbing cock. So she had no barriers blocking the hot flesh from her soft hand. Her breathing became more ragged, Daryl’s fingers probed deeper and deeper, and she took his perfect dick and pumped it as though her life depended on it.

            Maybe it did. Maybe she would die tonight if she didn’t get fucked good enough. It certainly felt like it. Felt as though their batteries were dying and the only way to prevent a complete and permanent shut down was to couple their souls. Master nuclear fusion by melding their bodies into one perfect being; just for a few moments though; any longer and their brilliant light would scorch the entire Earth and leave only dust and their panting, naked bodies.

            Hands weren’t enough, could never dream of being enough. She gripped Daryl’s short, soft hair to pull his head back and gain access to the delicate area under his jaw. She ran her tongue across the delicious skin, before going to mark it as she had the rest of his neck and collarbone. When all was said and done she wanted to make sure that when he left again that no girl would think him open territory. The young woman wanted to claim him as much as she wanted him to take claim of her.

            He knew it was time, withdrawing his hand from between her gorgeous legs left both of them colder and emptier than ever. But it was so he could take the waistband of her flannel bottoms and pull them down furiously.

            “Mmm… fuck, hold on… hold one, hold on, hold on.” Daryl was gasping, that’s how taken by the moment he was. As he stretched to reach for the nightstand drawer where their condoms were kept, she snatched his wrist. He’ll never forget the look in her eyes, wide and shining and filled with love and lust and loneliness.

            “I want to feel you…”

            His chest tightened, how could he deny those eyes?” It’s a danger day…” He was such a dutiful boyfriend, even before that became his title. As soon as she hit puberty, he tacked her cycle because she was the worst at it. Brought tampons to school on her starting days because she forgot every damn time. Left notes to remind her when he couldn’t be there because the last thing he wanted was for her to ruin her favorite dress.

            And when they first started fucking he took it as his duty to prevent any ‘accidents.’ He was not above denying himself sex if it was a ‘danger day’ and they didn’t have protection on hand. Something she had typically appreciated.

            But that night was different; she was quaking, overcome by all the emotions. “Please… Daryl… sweetheart, baby, light of my life… I need to feel you.” She got a weak smile. “I can get a plan-B from the student health center in the morning.

            He groaned, wanting to as badly as she did, if not more. “But what if…”

            “What if nothing.” She kissed him gently. “We’re always so careful.” And kiss. “But the chances are.” Kiss.” astronomical. It’s so hard to just” Kiss. “get pregnant from” Kiss. “One night.”

            Daryl couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how amazing it would be. After being separated for so long, he wanted to feel her right on him. No stupid rubber barrier preventing the nuclear reaction.

            “Just this once…” He groaned, falling back onto the pillows. “Fuck, but you are beautiful, you’d make beautiful babies…”

            She kicked her pants the rest of the way off before straddling him. “While that’s a lovely thought, let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”

            “Amen to that.” Daryl laughed as he guided her over his fully erect cock. Her cheeks were still blotchy and tear-stained, and snot was drying up under her nose. Still, she was his angel.

            But not a quiet one. No, she let loose a howl of pleasure as she lowered herself onto his massive cock. Daryl groaned at the feeling of her warm and wet canal surrounding his needy erection.

            After being untouched for so long, young Daryl was incredibly sensitive. Her pussy was such a shock to his system is nearly killed him. He swore loudly, fire burning through his system; rampant, persistent, carnal energies flooding his body. Already his heart was pounding, toes tingling, it nearly hurt in fact. His entire body ached, and the relief of her around him was like funneling hydrant’s pressure worth of that energy through a… hose much smaller than a firehose.

            She gasped as his nails dug into the flesh of her hips while he bucked his hips up hard. She threw her head back and cried out with the pleasure that was burrowing all the way to his soul. What could have remained gentle, sensual, quickly spiraled out of control.

            Her place on top didn’t last for very long; no, Daryl couldn’t quite exert his primal desire from beneath her. He was so careful when he flipped her, an arm looping around her back as he sat. He kissed her deeply, locking onto her lips like a rebreather at the ocean floor. He breathed her name into her being, and she breathed back his while he turned them around till he could slowly lay her head back into the pillow.

            Serenity broke through the heat long enough for him to admire her features in the moonlight. Hair splayed out, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, and lips quivering. She was his. And always would be.

            Sometimes Daryl remembers that face in his darker hours. The look of his angel appearing in the moon while he sat awake, out traveling with Merle. When they were separated during the early days of the end, he searched high and low for that face. He saw that angel’s expression each night as he watched over her, the perfection driving his desire to protect her.

            She is his, and that is why he ran away from the battle at the prison and towards her. And it was that angelic face that kept him moving even as the loss and guilt consumed his soul. He is her’s.

            And she his’. And he her’s. And she…

            And that night long ago, he thought he proved it so.

            But all those years later, when he pulled the trigger while she screamed ‘no,’ he could not see her angel face.


End file.
